Under the Whomping Willow SYOC
by AyOK
Summary: Centuries after the fall of He Who Shall Not Be Named, Hogwarts was once again peaceful, bringing forth new students in its majestic halls. Little do they know that chaos will soon enter and spread all over the peace they thought was true. What could have caused this turn of events? How come nobody suspected a child of such atrocities? It all comes back to one single date.
1. Somewhere in Diagon Alley

**Somewhere in Diagon Alley**

_It's been a few years at most and my anger and hatred for Hogwarts only grow. I used to love the idea of learning in that castle-like school and having fun with friends that I would make, so why have I become this way?_

_Why?_

_I remember distinctly that, the moment the news of my mother's death reached my father, he wept to no end. Finding my father in that heartbroken state, covered in tears and snot, drastically changed my whole life. Even now, years later, he wails like a madman almost every day, denying her death and bargaining to get her back._

_Once upon a time, he was happy, waiting for her return every year when the_ _term was over, for she worked at Hogwarts as a professor. He always had a smile about him. One that I would never see again. I felt like it was just the same for me. My smile was gone. Happiness was taken away by one single letter._

_A letter… they sent a fucking letter. As if that was enough… As if that would be better than a direct visit from the Headmaster at Hogwarts. I always knew something would happen. Something terrible. Even I, as a child at that time, was always aware of that feeling._

_People die and that **is** life. It's always easier to comfort friends who have had their loved ones die, but it's different the moment death knocks on your front door and tells you he's taken your mother. This letter was what broke my father's mind and heart and soul. Then again, even if those people had gone to our house, it would've ended the same way. My father would still be shattered inside_.

* * *

As I entered Flourish and Blotts, a soothing, gentle greeting almost made me feel the warmth that I hadn't felt for some time.

"Good morning, young man. Isn't it a nice day to be out and about, looking at these handsome books?"

A wrinkly old woman smiled at me with her dull green eyes. It was strange. Her eyes weren't exactly as bright as her smile, and yet I could feel intense excitement despite the sluggishness of her rigid actions.

"What books might you need? Tell me, what is your name?" She started off by mumbling a few words in regards to the books every different year students would need. "Oh... And while you're at it, you should make sure to tell me what year you are. You are a Hogwarts student, yes?"

I noticed that I was staring too much and just answered her question. "Aerik Neverrem. First year."

Instantly, I turned away, familiar with the reaction everyone seemed to have at the mention of my last name. Sure enough, the woman let out an odd gurgling noise that I could only assume conveyed the usual shock and pity. I quickly grabbed my books and paid the old woman, thankful for the sack of Galleons my distant aunt had sent me and turned to leave.

I had never wanted to be pitied or treated as if I was important, somehow, because of the death of my mother. And yet that was exactly what everyone seemed to do, even those polite enough not to speak of it aloud. I could feel their curiosity, their desire to know more about me. As if they actually knew anything about me at all.

Lost in my thoughts, I accidentally bumped into a girl, knocking her flat on her bottom on the dark mahogany wood floor. She groaned in pain and squinted up at me. Suddenly desperate to escape the awkward situation, I hurried out of the shop, struggling to keep my books from toppling to the ground. Once the bookshop was out of sight, I cautiously made my way back down the alley.

"Ollivander's… Shit. I have to pass by Flourish and Blotts again…" I stopped for a moment, deliberating, and was interrupted by a sudden noise to my left. I spun around.

Perched on the window sill of the nearest store was an owl, its orb-like eyes as black as the depths of night. It stared at me and tilted its head. I looked away, irrationally certain the owl could sense the darkness lurking inside me, the monster growing inside my soul day by day. I had grown used to hiding this from nearly every human being I met. Why did I feel like this owl could see right through me?

"It's a barn owl," said an amused-sounding voice behind me.

I pivoted on the spot again. "Shit." I didn't realise until a second later that I had spoken my thoughts out loud and covered my mouth with my hand.

It was the girl from Flourish and Blotts, the girl I had bumped into and hadn't bothered to help. I took in her appearance. Her ashy blonde hair fell in long waves, her eyes glowed an unnaturally bright blue colour, and her lips were set in a rather unfriendly-looking smirk.

"Don't tell me you thought you'd actually get away," she said, stepping closer to me. "Not after you left me there sitting like a duck."

Panicking, I stumbled back. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, **SHIT!**_

Before I could take another step, the girl pulled me by my tie, and I overbalanced towards her. She growled and suddenly it was not a girl's head I saw, but a wolf with a snowy white pelt. The wolf's sharp teeth snapped at the air barely an inch from my nose, so close that slobber dripped onto my face and dribbled down the front of my suit. Almost retching with fear and disgust, I pushed it… her… away. The girl, for she was definitely a girl again now – had the wolf only been my imagination? – righted herself and stood still, glaring at me ferociously. Then, suddenly, she stumbled as a huge hand slapped her on the back.

The hand belonged to a tall man with pure white hair and gleaming yellow eyes. He gazed at me for a moment, then turned to the girl. "Apologize to him," he ordered.

The girl whined, sounding eerily like a dejected dog.

I stared resolutely at the ground for a few tense moments, in which no one said anything. Then I decided to resolve the situation by walking away. I had no interest in any apology the strange wolf-girl might or might not make. The incident had been my fault in the first place, and all I wanted was to never see her again. Hopefully, she wouldn't be at Hogwarts.

Wiping the slimy fluid off of my clothes, I forced myself to think of what purchases I still needed to make before I could get out of this God-forsaken alley. _I just need a wand… and an owl. The other materials are already back at the mansion._

I stopped in front of Ollivander's, and as I strode in, my heart blazed with a desire that simply demanded to be satisfied.

**_There is only one thing I want to do in Hogwarts. Only one thing, and I will make it happen._**

A bell chimed as I entered, but the middle-aged man writing with a feather pen behind the counter continued on his task for a few seconds longer. His light brown hair complemented the grey of his eyes, and his glasses slipped down from his nose abruptly before he pushed them back up again with long fingers. Finally, he looked up.

"Alright… what is it that you want?" His voice was cold. It could not have been more unlike the old woman's from Flourish and Blotts.

_Good question_, I thought. I knew very well what I truly wanted. But this was not the time or context.

"I came for a wand," I said bluntly, intending not to stay any longer than necessary.

The man read me with eyes that glowed like the lustrous shine of the moon. I lowered my gaze, making no eye contact as I always did. He handed me a wand and in a monotone voice informed me what the wand was made out of. "Hornbeam, unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches, slightly flexible." He handed it to me. "Give it a twirl."

The moment I did, a howling wind swept through the shop, blowing away pieces of paper and disturbing wand boxes secured at the back of the counter. With a "tsk" from the man, he took the wand from my hand, and let me try another.

The second wand caused the lights to flicker and the lamp vibrated and sizzled. For a moment, I thought it was about to explode; then the man muttered an incantation and the wand flew back to his hand. The sting of the spell caused my hand to tense painfully, and I gripped it hard until the discomfort faded.

Wand after wand fared no better in my hand. Feeling myself panic, I closed my eyes and tried to think rationally. _Couldn't I just go on with my life without a wand? I've had plenty of experience with wandless magic after all…_

My mind made up, I refused the next wand and silently turned, making my way towards the door. Then, suddenly, a huge screech split the air, like a thousand nails scratching a single blackboard. I turned back to the wandmaker and the many wand boxes behind him, from which that horrible screech seemed to be emanating.

The man himself was covering his ears as he started to go through the wand boxes. His eyes were darting around his own shop, searching where the awful sound was being emitted from. Finally, seeming to realise something, he dashed up to the very back where a box was pulled halfway out of the otherwise perfectly lined shelves.

Grabbing it quickly, the man rushed back to the counter, opened the counter door, and presented it to me with pained eyes. "E-Ebony wood… Phoenix f-fea…ther." His hands were shaking and I was sure mine were as well; the sound was getting, if possible, even louder and shriller. "Ugh… th-thirteen inch…es… r-rigid… here. T-take it!"

The moment I grasped the box, the torturous, high-pitched ringing in my ears ceased, and a sort of peace radiated from the wand. I extracted it from the box. It was jet black and plain with no markings whatsoever, and oddly curved in the centre, but smooth to the touch. It felt comfortable, even natural, in my hand, as though it had been made especially for me.

I looked at the man and withdrew my pouch of Galleons. As the man accepted my payment, he was still shaking. After a few moments, he said tremulously, "You want something… that wand wanted to grant it…" He swallowed. "What do you want?"

With the wand in my hand, I glanced at the man and an involuntary smile began to curve my lips. It wasn't a happy smile, no, much the opposite: the sheer hatred in my heart was overwhelming. And now I had exactly what I needed to express it.

"Guess you'll have to watch me then," I said at last.

The man only looked at me. His crouching figure straightened and his breathing slowly became normal. As if a spell had been cast, he seemed to forget what had occurred, bending over the counter and starting to write again. I pushed the door open, inspected the wand once more.

_Never mind. I spoke too soon. And to think, this wand's desires coincide with mine…_

I stepped out to darkening skies. In the time I'd spent in the store, a storm had crept up on London and had nearly arrived. Even as I watched, lightning struck somewhere in the distance, followed by a roar of thunder.

"My ride should be around here somewhere… where the fuck is he?" I muttered to myself, closing my eyes, waiting for the raindrops to start falling… still waiting…

_Where are they?_

_...drip drop drop drip drop..._

_There's the sound...where's the rain itself?_

I opened my eyes to see a red umbrella blocking the downpour. An older boy stood by my side, a cage in hand containing the very barn owl I had seen earlier. The cage looked heavy, but the boy held it in one hand with apparent ease, like it was nothing.

I looked at my watch, then very deliberately at the other boy. "You're six minutes late… Moran."

I didn't have to yell at him; Moran understood his mistake. He bowed his head and clicked his tongue. A small carriage rolled towards us, and I climbed inside.

"Sir… how was your trip to the bookshop… and the wand shop?" Moran inquired as he hopped in after me, checking to make sure the Thestrals were turned in the right direction.

Three words sprang to mind immediately.

"Unexcitable. Disgusting. And wonderful."

A smile crept in my face once more as I gazed intently at the wand that had chosen me.

"Hogwarts… **you will pay.**"

* * *

**Well, now the rules:**

1) Follow the story. Just so you get the updates.

2) Label your subject with Name - Age - Blood Status - House. It will be easier to sort the characters with that. (Also, mind that this takes place way after Harry Potter's kids!)

3) Be as descriptive as you can on your submissions, and it has to make sense. It can't be all over the place. If there is something out of place, explain why that is the case so I can understand and maybe help fix it or even use it.

4) No relations to canon characters as that will require more research on my part. I know the characters but not to heart.

5) Also, if you have questions, ask them in a different PM. Again, it'll just be easier on my part.

6) To make sure I know you're still there, just review. Doesn't have to be in every chapter or tons of paragraphs of review but just so I know you're still interested.

7) Feel free to tell me if I have grammar mistakes and such. English ain't my first language, peeps! I would appreciate that. Also, correct me if I happen to make a mistake on the story regarding the objects or anything in particular in the Harry Potter world.

8) These may not be long chapters though I will inform people if it ends up being long. I would probably make it short so there are a lot of chapters.

9) Lastly, this isn't a first come first serve, so take your time. Also, this SYOC doesn't need a lot of characters for now. It might later on but yeah. I think that's it.

10) Delete those inside ().

* * *

** Here is the Form!**

**-Basic-**

Full Name:

Nickname (explain how they had gotten it):

Age (11-16 = would determine year) and Birthday:

Blood Status (Pure Blood, Half-Blood, Muggleborn):

Nationality and Hometown:

**-Appearance-**

Hair color/style, eye color, skin complexion, physical build, height, etc.:

Clothes worn under robes or on days without school:

**-Personal Information-** (simplify if you can)

Personality (aside from their normal everyday personality, how do they treat/ think about their classmates/teachers/headmaster/older/younger students?):

Sum up Personality (10):

Likes (3):

Dislikes (3):

Hobbies/Skills (3):

Fears (3):

Romance (if yes, what kind of person and how they would act around that said person):

**-History-**

Pre-Hogwarts Life (what was their childhood like? what they felt about going to Hogwarts):

Family (explain the importance, alive/dead/sick, even jobs parents have):

Hogwarts Life:

House (explain why they should be sorted into that house):

Year:

Favorite Subject and Least Favorite Subject (Charms Class, Potions Class, etc. and explain):

**-Everything Else-**

Pet (owl, cat, etc. and a simple description of what it looks like):

Wand (in detail please - from wand wood, core, length, and why it chose your character):

Special Ability (if you have one, have a flaw that comes with it= Parseltongue, Metamorphagia, etc.):

Patronus (what does it represent?):

Anything I Missed:


	2. Inside the Walls of Neverrem Manor

**Inside the Walls of Neverrem Manor**

_I'm getting closer… I have to do this…_

_I have to…_

Standing near the massive windows that led to an extremely beautiful open balcony adorned with black roses glistening in the rain, I pondered the previous day's accomplishments. They did not seem like much to boast about, purchasing books and a wand, but now my plan was finally set in full motion. It was too bad that the light, relaxing drizzle of the early morning was replaced by heavy rainfall. Roaming the grounds of the mansion, one of my favourite pastimes, would be quite impossible until the storm had passed.

Thus, I loitered inside, going over the plan in my head once more. _All of the steps I have taken so far had been systematic and intentional, _I thought grimly._ Nothing should go wrong._

At the show of lightning and thunder, I strode over to the curtains, intending to pull them shut. It looked such a simple task, but it was a burden too great for my weak body. After several attempts at dragging the heavy cloth across the marble floor, I gave up and, leaving them still mostly open, collapsed on the cosy velvet armchair facing the outside, my chest heaving from the exertion.

_How annoying… I'm so weak._

The sky grew angry as minutes passed. Finding nothing better to do, I made myself comfortable and decided to look once more over the messy array of documents containing information on Hogwarts set on top of the desk. However, this only increased my frustration. _Hogwarts this… Hogwarts that…_ After reading through all the files fifty-two times and counting, checking and double-checking to make sure I hadn't missed any details, still none of the information I had seemed useful in the slightest.

Moran knocked on the doorframe as he came in, which was very good timing as I was on the point of throwing every piece of paper in the burning furnace without a care. Remaining stoic and unemotional in front of him was backbreaking, but I had to do it. I couldn't show emotion, couldn't show weakness.

"Are you finished packing everything, Moran?" I asked him. "If so, please ch-"

That was when the screams started. Shouts of grief and rage, filling our ears, echoing relentlessly in our bones, because of how horribly familiar they were to both of us.

My father was awake.

**"AHHHH! G-GIVE HER BA-ACK!"**

I glanced at Moran. "Check on him. Please."

Moran grunted as though unwilling, but followed the order he was familiar with. It was always Moran's responsibility to tend to the tortured man because I myself could not bear to even see such a horrible sight. I knew that it ought to be my responsibility, but I could not bring myself to care for someone who had long since lost touch with reality. He was no longer the man who I had once depended on and even called…

"Father," I muttered.

Moran shut the door behind him.

The screams continued to ring throughout the mansion. Unwillingly, I felt tears begin to sting my eyes, running down my face… I tried to stop them but soon succumbed. It wasn't long before I was bawling like the child I was supposed to be. Lost, broken, abandoned.

_Who am I really? The child who lost his mother. The child who lost his father. The child who lost his innocence._

And then, as always, the sorrow and grief made way for rage, anger, and hatred.

_Who am I? I am the child who will destroy Hogwarts._

_Hogwarts is to blame. __Hogwarts took her away. And I will have my revenge._

_I will destroy the place that took my mother from me._

Finally catching my breath, I leaned back and took a whiff of the warm air collecting in the room. The exhaustion from weeping too much was taking a hold of my body, and I swore I could hear individual notes begin to play. A tune in the silent air.

**_Mother's… song?_**

* * *

I dreamed.

I stood in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a deep sea of fog. Jagged rocks sprouted from the ground. The scene was eerily familiar. _Wait a minute… I've had this dream before._

As I watched, my surroundings started to come into focus. Claw-like branches touched the dark sky high above me, and thorny vines in every direction whipped at the air as if they had minds of their own. The setting was chaotic and dangerous, yet I felt entirely safe and at peace. _Yes, definitely a dream…_ I could tell from the way the clouds above me were warping from shape to shape even as I observed them. In fact, everything seemed distorted: natural shapes twisted into something foreign to this world and back again in the blink of an eye.

In front of me, a flash of colour caught my eye… a meadow of lush grass that seemed somehow to swirl and spiral into a single hole in the distance. My interest piqued, I followed the grass towards the hole. Just like I always do.

I took a step towards the hole and was abruptly inundated by visions.

A man and a woman stand in front of me.

They hold hands. Four journals. They kiss. A music box.

She dies. The vision ends.

I wake up.

* * *

"Sir? Are you alright? Sir Aerik…!"

My eyes fluttered open. Moran was standing above me, looking concerned.

_What an ending,_ I thought, and yet I shouldn't have been surprised. The woman always died in the end, just before I woke.

I slowly sat up. Moran was speaking to me, and I caught the gist even though I wasn't paying nearly as much attention as I should have been: that he had managed to calm my father and nurse him back to sleep, that he had come back to find me passed out on the chair and carried me all the way to my room, that he'd noticed I had tried to shift the curtains earlier and I'd no doubt overexerted myself, and didn't I know I shouldn't do strenuous work because of my sickly state… On another day I might have argued with him, but right now there was something far more urgent on my mind.

_That dream. I think I know what it means!_

"Moran…" I said slowly, interrupting his lecture, and Moran immediately fell silent. "Didn't the letter say they found my mother's body** under the Whomping Willow?**"

Moran hesitated, clearly confused. I clucked my tongue insistently. "Yes, sir," he said at last. "That's where they found her. Under the Whomping Willow."

"And when did they find her?" The older boy's gaze locked with mine. He was surely bewildered as to why I was asking something I already knew by heart. "When, Moran?" I demanded it out of him.

"On… on the first of January, sir," Moran stammered rapidly. He was fast going pale, as if he sensed my rage, as if he knew I would continue tormenting him with many more questions about my mother's death. Finally, he bleated like a terrified goat, "It was on your birthday, sir!"

_**Bingo.**_


	3. Near Platforms Nine and Ten

**Near Platforms Nine and Ten**

Standing by the ticket barrier at Kings Cross Station, I shifted impatiently from my right foot to my left. After all those years of waiting and planning and learning about Hogwarts, I was now mere feet away from the train that would deliver me to the site of my revenge. But I had to wait a little longer, for Moran to load our luggage onto a trolley and push it all the way through the crowds to where I waited.

I glanced surreptitiously from side to side, checking to see if any Muggles had their eyes on me. No one did, but there was no sign of Moran either. _Why is he taking so long?_ I stared at my watch as if it would make him hurry up: I couldn't wait for him any longer.

I had just decided to brave platform nine and three-quarters myself, leaving Moran to find his own way, when he was suddenly at my side, stepping with me through the ticket barrier. _Where did he come from?_ I was so thrown by his sudden appearance that I missed the reputedly wonderful moment of appearing on the other side of the barrier and catching that first glimpse of the magical platform. Still, I couldn't help but feel a childish sense of curiosity and excitement when I registered the mass of people crowded around a massive scarlet steel train, billowing steam, ready to begin the journey to Hogwarts.

Shaking off my traitorous emotions, I turned to the older boy beside me. "Tell me, Moran. How are you able-"

I cut myself off, remembering my resolution to keep a tight hold over my own feelings, to concentrate on my own business and not inquire over anyone else's. I waved my hand, dismissing my own statement, and Moran didn't pry. I shook my head, trying to convince myself I wasn't intrigued by Moran's stealth, or the platform, or anything other than my task. I **hated** nosy people. The idea that I could be anything like that myself left a very sour taste in my mouth.

As I made my way through the throng of people, Moran in my wake, my stomach jolted unpleasantly as I saw various families saying goodbye. A boy my age wept as he embraced his parents tightly, clearly not wanting to let go. Huffing, I averted my eyes only to see more teary expressions, more loving hugs and kisses. A part of me that I had lost long ago…_ no_, I corrected myself, _it was stolen from me._ I just wanted it to stop… why did everyone have to make me feel worse than I already did for the past four years of my life?

I willed myself to ignore the people around me and focus on the train. People jostled me as I pushed through the crowd and finally reached the train's outer edge. I quickly wiped away tears that had built up in the corners of my eyes at some point; thankfully, Moran didn't seem to notice. He pointed a hand, red from the exertion of pushing our trolley across Kings Cross, indicating the door of the nearest carriage.

Stepping through the door, I left Moran to struggle to load our trolley onto the train and started to make my way down the corridor, peering into each compartment. Each one seated four students, and many of them were already filled. The last thing I wanted was to squeeze into a compartment with a bunch of kids and be forced to make conversation about how wonderful Hogwarts would be. Unfortunately, it was starting to look as if I might not have a choice in the matter.

I was cursing under my breath, still unable to find a compartment I liked, when Moran caught up with me. I immediately cut the language; Moran was never tolerant with cursing for some reason. On more than one occasion he had threatened to make me wash my tongue with soap if he ever caught me in the act of swearing, and the image of the older boy forcing me to do exactly that was frightening enough for me to relent, even if I wasn't sure if he would actually be brave enough to follow through on his promise.

Moran, fortunately, found an empty compartment for us at the very back of the train. I sat down in the far corner and felt rather than saw Moran plant himself beside me. Annoyed at the slight contact, I turned to him and opened my mouth to order him into the seat across from me, but cut myself off when the compartment door began to slide open.

A girl with a black bob of hair and vivid green eyes stood in the doorway, flanked on one side by a small brown-haired boy. The girl stared for a moment, then nodded to herself as if making a decision, and pulled the door open the rest of the way. My eyes followed her every movement as she took a couple of steps in, irritated at this stranger who dared intrude my compartment but warring with myself not to show that irritation.

Suddenly, the girl pulled out her wand and my annoyance briefly flared into panic. _What the fuck is she-_

But she didn't point the wand at me, instead directing it into the air above us, which formed into words.

**I'm sorry to impose, but may we sit in this compartment? There aren't any more seats left...**

I blinked. _A mute… and a midget_, I thought as my gaze shifted to the boy, who had to be several inches shorter than I was, and I was no physical specimen myself. _Just fantastic. Exactly the traveling companions I wanted._

I shot a glance at Moran, willing him to tell these interlopers to shove off, but either he misunderstood my expression or he disagreed with me, because he turned straight to the girl, relaxed his posture, and said brightly, "Of course! We don't mind."

So the strangers made their way inside our compartment and sat down. I pointedly faced the window as the boy took the seat opposite me, leaving the girl to sit opposite Moran. Moran immediately struck up an oddly one-sided conversation with the girl – who, I figured, was using that air-writing spell to reply. The other boy didn't join in and neither did I. Being in a room with people other than Moran, who was the one person in the world I trusted, was strange and unnerving.

Abruptly, Moran tapped me on the shoulder and I wheeled in my seat. Smiling languidly at me, he said, "Aerik, aren't you going to greet your classmates? Rowena and Carey – is it Carey?" He directed the question at the boy, who nodded mutely. "Yes – they're both first years as well."

I nearly growled at him. Who was he, to speak to me as a friend, to call me by my first name, to introduce me to people I didn't give a crap about? He would pay later; for now, I contented myself with a glare, then turned to the other two occupants of the compartment.

"Nice to meet you, Rowena, Carey," I said, greeting them in turn with a quick, firm handshake. Rowena flinched, and I knew my annoyance must have shown up on my face, but I couldn't find it in me to care at that moment. The boy named Carey, oddly, didn't flinch. He met my gaze evenly – his eyes were a deep, calming blue – and then looked away, seemingly unconcerned. _Intriguing_, I thought.

My eyes flickered to Moran again. His smile was gone; evidently, he'd realised his mistake. He quickly painted that smile back on, for appearance's sake, but his eyes now lowered slightly as if in apology.

"Why don't you get all of us some nice treats once the food trolley comes? You're always talking about how enchanting they are," I said airily to Moran. Turning to face Rowena and Carey, I said to them. "Moran's a fourth year, so he knows all about the Hogwarts Express ride. He's also much richer than any of us, being older and all." A bare-faced lie, that last sentence, but the others had no way of knowing. Moran nodded, seeming to agree with my request as a suitable penance.

The food trolley came and Moran bought sweets for all of us. In fact, at a glance from me, he bought all the sweets that remained, since we were in the very last compartment. The vendor, an old man with a moustache curling on its ends, magicked up a table in the centre of the compartment for the sweets to rest on.

"Least I could do," the man said in a gruff but kind voice. "You just bought a full quarter of my stock. Enjoy."

I smiled alongside the others, still inwardly seething at the façade of amiability Moran had forced me into. _At least the sweets might shut everyone up for a while._ As the man departed, I picked up the green-wrapped sweet nearest to me on the table and popped it into my mouth absently. Nobody talked to me, so I turned my eyes towards the glass window, feigning interest in the countryside farms we were passing by.

The sweet tasted of peppermint, my favourite flavour, but it quickly melted and disappeared from my mouth. More concerningly, a sudden wave of warmth and fatigue overwhelmed me and spread through my body, and my eyes began to slowly close of their own accord. Blinking to force them open, I picked up the green wrapper that I had discarded on the table and read the label: **MINTY DOZE. Sleep the trip away!**

My slowing brain processes registered that the sweet must be for people who didn't handle long trips well. I dropped the wrapper, my strength sapped, and slumped against the seat. As my eyes closed, for good this time, I saw the girl, Rowena, lean over to catch the wrapper and ask Moran in a stammering voice "D-d-did h-he eat th-that?"

My final, hazy thought was one of surprise. _Wait. She can talk?_

Then sleep overcame me.


	4. Approaching Hogsmeade Station

**Approaching Hogsmeade Station**

**Moran's POV**

There was a leaden feeling in my stomach as I stared down at my master's sleeping form beside me, in the rapidly fading light. I had always known things would change when Aerik's time came to attend Hogwarts, but knowing that time was now at hand made it seem all the more real. _Now he's here, and the Hogwarts I know and love is about to fall apart. And I'll be to blame. I'll be a helpless instrument of Hogwarts' destruction, whether I like it or not. I have to follow Master Aerik. I have no choice…_

If I was honest with myself, I didn't completely understand why I stood by Aerik's side and obeyed his commands like a dog. Part of me hated him with a passion, but despite that, I couldn't help caring deeply for him, the child he used to be. Once upon a time, Aerik had been the epitome of kindness and innocence, before everything changed. His mother's death was terrible, to be sure, but privately, I felt losing his father to insanity was what truly drove him to become the withdrawn, hateful soul he now was. The boy was traumatised, through no fault of his own, and taking it out on the world. I could not hold that against him.

"Umm... w-w-will he b-be al-r-right?" stammered Rowena, pulling me out of my murky thoughts.

Before I could respond, a quiet voice spoke up from the corner.

"I read the wrapper." It was Carey, the other boy in the compartment. "It's a magic sweet. He'll wake up as soon as he gets the antidote… which we should give him soon. We're only a few miles away now, right?" He glanced at me questioningly, and despite his calm tone, I detected a hint of excitement.

I nodded. "Yes. We always arrive just after dark, so we should be stopping any minute now." Carey nodded, gripping one hand in the other as if to contain his nervous energy. Rowena was more obvious about it: her green eyes lit up and she shifted in her seat as if readying herself to bolt off the train as soon as we pulled up.

As if it somehow knew what we were saying, the compartment suddenly lurched slightly: the train was slowing down, gradually, to a stop. Aerik needed to wake up now. I stared at the table full of candy, searching for the Minty Doze antidote that was supposed to be included with the packet. "Where is it? Come on…"

The train stopped and I began to hear movement in the adjoining compartments. _Oh, well_, I thought. _He's the one who ate the sweet, he can't complain. Maybe if we leave him on the train and he gets sent back to Kings Cross…_ Against my will, I found myself laughing at how dark and desperate my thoughts had become. The laugh died in my throats and saw the two first years across from me blinking perplexedly at me.

Rowena waved her wand. **Are you OK, Moran?**

I nodded, but it was a lie. _No, Rowena_, I wanted to say. _I think I'm completely losing it._

Finally, I spotted the little spray bottle with the Minty Doze label. I quickly sprayed my master in the face, hoping traitorously that the spray was defective somehow and he would stay unconscious. But my hopes were in vain: Master Aerik woke up instantly, yawning. He immediately gazed at me, his eyes as cold as ice, and I instinctively avoided looking into them. Then that pretentious smile was back, and I felt the familiar feeling of sheer panic well up in me. _What'll he do to me now? I messed up. I messed up. I…_

Forcing back my feelings, I stood up and painted yet another fake smile on my face.

"Alright, it's time to go!" I said to the first years. "They have to make a big fuss and take you to the docks, where you'll ride a boat across the lake to Hogwarts. It's an experience you'll never forget!"

I directed Rowena and Carey to take their leave before I had the tiniest pinprick of courage to look in my master's direction. He was already on his feet, clutching a black leather book tattered at the sides. I had seen him carry the book around the mansion many times; thinking about it, I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him without it. I avoided looking at him as he passed me, and nearly stumbled from shock when he clapped a hand on my back briefly before leaving the compartment without looking back.

Finally alone with my jumbled thoughts and emotions, I clenched my fist and punched the open sliding door. _Why do you have to be this way, Aerik?_ I thought despairingly._ So cold and mysterious, more than anyone your age has a right to be. If you're just gonna kill me after you've burned everything, why can't you tell me and get it over with? __Just say it!_

"Hey, moron!"

I jolted as I heard a familiar voice, albeit one I never expected to even talk to me again. Not after **her**…

But it was him, a face I knew all too well. Curly black hair parted in the middle, three piercings - two on his left ear and one on his right, and delicate, rounded features that would be better described as beautiful rather than handsome: an opinion I certainly shared.

"Hey, Blake," I greeted the boy cautiously.

As I spoke, a girl with soft curves, delicate skin, and cute freckles emerged from the doorway behind Blake. She punched his shoulder, snickering – a tender, beautiful sound. "It's Moran, silly," she said playfully. "Get it right!"

I stared at the girl, feeling my cheeks heat up. I recognised this girl possibly even more than Blake; there was no way I would ever forget Kasumi. Her wavy inky black hair moved as she laughed, falling gently upon her shoulders. Her slanted obsidian eyes smiled at me and, for a moment, I felt as though she acknowledged my feelings, possibly even returned them.

Blake gave me a strange look, and then turned back to Kasumi, "Nah," he said abruptly. "He's a moron." With that, he turned in the other direction and hopped off the train. Kasumi glanced at me for one last moment, her choppy bangs hanging over her eyes, then shook her head and followed Blake.

I shook my head. _Yep… Blake still hates me. As if I can control what I feel for her. Like I can help the way my heart pounds like crazy whenever she's close to me._

_Although_, I added mentally as I too departed the train,_ this really should be the least of my worries right now._

* * *

**Carey's POV**

On the walk down to the lake, I stuck close to Rowena. Even though I hadn't met her before today, I felt more comfortable with her than anyone else here. Rowena had been the one person who noticed how completely lost and bewildered I was at the train station. Besides, being a Muggle-born, I knew I needed all the friends I could get, and the train ride with those other two boys hadn't made me feel any better about fitting in. The older one, Moran, was nice enough, but there was something very odd about the other…

Shaking my head, I told myself sternly not to dwell on such things. The only thing that mattered was doing well at this new school, this **magic** school. I was doing this to make my parents proud, to pay them back for all their sacrifices and support. I had to excel; nothing less than the best was good enough.

My determination renewed, I sped up my walking pace, the better to keep up with Rowena, who was surprisingly fit. Suddenly, something shoved me roughly in the back and I fell to the ground. Spitting mud, I looked up and saw the younger boy from the train compartment. Aerik. He was standing above me with a haunting, dead look in his eyes. Then as if it was only a trick of the mind, that expression was gone, replaced by an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," said Aerik, the picture of innocence as he extended his hand to help me up.

I took his hand, trying not to show how alarmed and disconcerted I felt. Yes, something was definitely off about this boy.

"It's alright," I said coolly, and then strode off as quickly as I dared, once more trying to catch up with Rowena, who I could barely see in the darkness.

As I finally drew level with the girl, the back of my neck prickled, and I knew without needing to turn around that Aerik's black, soulless eyes were boring into the small of the back where he had just pushed me over a minute before. Even though I prided myself on staying calm no matter what, I couldn't quite suppress a shiver, and instinctively I shifted closer to Rowena so that our arms were almost touching.

_Have I just entered a world of monsters?_


	5. The Black Lake's Deep Waters

**The Black Lake's Deep Waters**

**Aerik's POV**

"We're nearly at Hogwarts!"

"-we'll actually see the castle-"

"-you know how we end up in our houses?"

"I heard we have to fight a dragon!"

I gritted my teeth as I waited at the docks by the lake, along with all the other first years. The gamekeeper had told us we had to wait a few minutes, so the rest of the student body had time to arrive at the castle first. I wouldn't have minded the wait, except for the unbearable racket that was at least forty children babbling over the top of one another, talking about nothing.

This, I reflected, was exactly why I preferred the comforting solitude and silence of my home, rather than going out to shops and restaurants where the masses thrived. I clapped a hand over my mouth, fighting the growing urge to scream insults at the chatterboxes around me. Why did they have to be so** loud?**

I found myself longing for the mansion again, with only Moran for company. This was torture. _Yet another reason to hate Hogwarts. To destroy it, to burn it to the ground._

But I knew I had to endure this unpleasantness. My task was impossible without it. I also could not rely on Moran anymore, not if I wanted to get stronger. I had to learn to get by myself, without him mothering me at every turn. _Like I need it, anyway._ But I had to admit I felt nervous and a little vulnerable, knowing he wasn't by my side. The very thought of my weakness left a sour taste in my mouth, and I spat on the ground.

_Bullshit. I don't need him. As helpful as he's been, he's only a piece of paper in a notebook, made to be scribbled on and then crumpled up when it's no longer needed. Eventually, I'll throw him away like the trash he is. Maybe that day isn't so far away, either. He was nothing more than a nuisance on the train. I'll make sure he doesn't forget that._

Caught up in my thoughts as I was, I didn't notice her until she stood right in front of me, casting a slight shadow in the moonlight.

"So. It's you again."

I blinked._ Shit. Not her._

It was the white-haired girl from the bookstore, staring at me with a vicious sneer on her face. I was prepared, this time, when the girl's head morphed into the wolf's, her white fur glistening like pure marble. Without really knowing why I was doing it, I reached forward and placed my hand softly on the wolf's furry head, between its ears.

She reared back, teeth bared in a snarl. The wolf barked, and somehow, in that, I heard the girl's indignant voice. "You weirdo! What are you doing?"

Anger overcame curiosity, and I glared at the wolf-girl who seemed to exist solely to challenge and threaten me. "Takes one to know one! Who are you to talk shit about me?"

The girl's reaction to that made even less sense. She burst out laughing.

"What are you laughing at?" I demanded. The girl seemed to veer unpredictably between hating me and treating me as if we were both in on some hilarious joke. She confused me, and I hated being confused.

To make matters worse, we were starting to attract attention. Several of the other first years had ceased their conversations and were staring at us avidly. I noticed Rowena and Carey among them; Rowena looked confused, Carey wary.

I looked back at the girl whose head had morphed back into human form. Had the others seen the wolf's head? She smirked and grabbed me by the arm. Her fingernails dug in painfully as she pulled me through the crowd, moving with unusual speed. I did not have the strength to break her grip, so I stumbled after her until she came to a stop at the very edge of the lake.

The girl let go of my arm, surveying me inscrutably. I rubbed my arm, wincing, as I panted hard, trying to catch my breath. "You're really not fit, are you?" she said matter-of-factly, with that amused smirk in place again. "The name's Victoria Ylva, by the way," she added as if as an afterthought. "What's yours?"

I didn't answer her; I was still gulping hungrily for air. The combined exertion of the walk down to the lake and my involuntary sprint with the wolf-girl was really starting to take its toll. I was tired, and my rage at this girl and at my own physical weakness was reaching boiling point.

"Guess you mustn't have a-"

"JUST SHUT UP!" I howled, although the effect was ruined slightly when I choked on the last word. I turned away from the demonic girl and sank towards the ground, putting my hands on my knees. Perspiring profusely, I let my rucksack slide off my shoulder and rummaged through it briefly, hoping to find anything that might help… medication, a water bottle? Nothing looked promising, so I let go of my bag and collapsed on the ground, trying to control my breathing._ Calm down_, I told myself, _calm down…_

The girl, Victoria, plumped down beside me and glanced my way before her eyes, as yellow as the older man she was with that day in Diagon Alley, lit up, I looked around to see about twenty small rowboats pull in slowly at the edge of the lake, each carrying a lantern.

"Three people to a boat!" I heard the gamekeeper shout as students began to crowd around the lake's edge and climb into boats. I looked back at Victoria and saw, not a girl, but the wolf – not just the wolf's head, this time, but the whole animal, with its white pelt shimmering in the moonlight. She cocked her head toward the nearest boat, as if to say, _what are you waiting for?_ Then, in a single, nimble leap, she jumped onto the boat, landing lightly on all fours.

After a moment's hesitation, I climbed in after her, my mind trying to solve the puzzle of what this girl could be. Could she be an Animagus? I quickly discarded the possibility. An eleven-year-old Animagus was unheard of. I knew Metamorphmagi could sometimes give themselves animal features, but I had never heard of one transforming completely into another creature; that didn't mean it wasn't possible, however. Or perhaps she was a natural shapeshifter; I had heard stories about such people from far-off countries but didn't know if they were true. I would have to research it myself. Victoria was an unknown, and any unknown could potentially derail my plan.

While I had been lost in thought, Victoria had shifted back into human form. She was regarding me thoughtfully, as if she found me just as much a puzzle as I found her. Finally, she spoke up.

"I know who you are," she said quietly. "You're Aerik Neverrem… am I right? The boy whose mother died at Hogwarts."

I froze, carefully keeping my face blank to hide the emotional storm that burst out within me at the mention of my mother. _Don't cry. Don't choke up. Don't show any emotion. You can't afford it. You can't let anyone see anything._

"Yes," I managed to say. "What of it?"

Victoria shifted. "Well…" she said, pausing as if trying to decide what to say. "You could say I just wanted to make sure my father wasn't making things up. You met him in Diagon Alley, remember? He recognised you. He told me you look a lot like your mother. He knew her, you see, he's a professor at Hogwarts as well. You'll meet him again in a few minutes."

She went silent again as another student approached our boat; we were the last with any space left. Victoria patted the space beside her, and I shifted sideways to fill it as the other climbed in. I was thankful that I was no longer alone with Victoria and didn't have to carry on the conversation. _Her father knew my mother... did he?_ I would have to do some more thinking. This man could prove to be a useful ally… or a dangerous enemy.

* * *

**Rowena's POV**

I gazed in wonder as we proceeded through the halls of Hogwarts. All of us first years had been amazed at the first sight of the majestic castle, while we were crossing the lake on those old, enchanted boats. But for me, nothing could truly match the exhilaration of setting foot in the school itself. These ancient hallways had been walked by my parents, my grandparents and many more generations of Studwicks.

I glanced left and right as we trooped past meticulously crafted stone walls and started to ascend a long flight of stairs. I knew the building was a mixture of the old and the new; much of the castle had to be rebuilt after the infamous Battle of Hogwarts, the one where Voldemort was vanquished. Portraits of men and women on either side jostled and murmured to each other, watching us walking up the stairs. Carey was beside me, and I tugged at his arm, pointing out the paintings.

I knew Carey was Muggle-born, so I wasn't surprised when his eyes widened like saucers as he took in the moving pictures. After a moment, he said, "Wow… it's just like the telly at home."

I giggled, then remembered the other boy, Aerik. I didn't know whether he came from a wizarding family or not, but I was sure he too must be amazed at the ancient castle. But where was he? He had gotten separated from us before the boat ride when he got into an argument with that white-haired girl.

A horrible thought struck me. _What if he got lost?_ I moved closer to the stair's stone railing, pushing past several other children, and looked down to try and make out if Aerik had been left behind.

"Oi! You're blocking the way!" complained a boy behind me.

"Sorry," I said automatically, starting to move up the stairs again, but still gazing over the railing to try and find Aerik. I didn't need my wand to speak this time: 'sorry' was one of the few words I could say without stuttering most of the time.

Carey appeared beside me again. "Looking for Aerik?" he said to me in his usual soft voice. I nodded, and he pointed out the boy with dark brown hair and cold black eyes, who was trailing near the back of the throng of first years, combing his hair back. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I've been keeping an eye on him," muttered Carey. "There's something about him…"

Suddenly, we reached the top of the staircase and stopped. A tall man, with ivory white hair that contrasted with his black robes and bright yellow eyes, stood right in front of us. Behind him was a huge pair of oaken double-doors. The man raised a large pale hand, and immediately everyone stopped talking and stilled, waiting for him to speak.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," boomed the man. His voice was powerful and deep, rumbling like the thunder outside. "My name is Professor Ylva, and I am the Deputy Headmaster of this school. Before you join your classmates on the other side of this door, I must inform you that you will then take part in the Sorting Ceremony where you will be placed in your respective houses. Much more information will be given to you before the ceremony starts."

Professor Ylva then opened up his hands to indicate the walls on either side of the double-doors. Four massive tapestries hung, two on either side, each displaying an emblem of a single animal: one of the four mascots of Hogwarts.

"For those of you who don't know-" he began, and then broke off immediately as a couple of barely audible snickers erupted at the back of the groups.

"Muggle-borns," I heard someone whisper, to a fresh outbreak of giggling.

"Enough of that!" snapped Professor Ylva, slapping a gigantic hand on the stair railing which created a resounding _thump_. The snickers died away instantly. "Discrimination against those of non-magical blood is not tolerated at Hogwarts. We have learned from our past mistakes, believe me. **We shall not repeat them.**"

He glowered at us, and I made a mental note never to cross this man.

Finally, Professor Ylva spoke again. "As I was saying," he said, and although he had dropped his voice, it carried in the silence, "these are the four houses that you may be sorted into. Gryffindor."

As soon as Professor Ylva said the name, the first tapestry, displaying a lion that looked as lifelike as if it had stepped into the tapestry from the jungle itself, roared to life, quite literally: I jumped and so did several others as the lion let out a deep, powerful roar. At the same time, scarlet and gold fire erupted behind the lion. It was a spine-tingling sight.

"The house of the brave and chivalrous," continued Professor Ylva.

The lion folded one of its paws and bowed regally. Then it stilled and the flames behind it died out.

"Hufflepuff," said Professor Ylva, "the house of the diligent and loyal."

In the second tapestry, a badger rose to its hind legs and scuffed the stone on which it stood, which crumbled away to be replaced by black and yellow soil. Nimbly it dug into the earth, retrieving fruits and grains and dropping them into a massive basket. Finally, it nudged the full basket towards the front of the tapestry, as if offering it to us.

"Ravenclaw, the house of the intelligent and witty."

Our gazes locked on the third tapestry. An eagle soared through blue skies, coming to rest in a bronze tree, where it blended into its surroundings. Soon, a mouse scurried out from behind the tree, thinking itself safe, and the clever bird swooped down, seizing its meal for the day.

"And Slytherin," Professor Ylva concluded, "the house of the cunning and ambitious."

There was a hiss as we saw a silvery snake inch its head out of a large bowl floating in a green liquid. Its eyes glittered with determination and desire. Moments passed until a small handbroom drifted into the tapestry from one side. Swiftly, the snake lunged, fastening its fangs around the object, thus escaping the bowl and drifting to safety.

The students around me started to murmur excitedly as the magnificent show finished, enthusiastically speculating as to which house they might be sorted into, and which they thought was the best. I remained silent. I truly didn't know which house I wanted to be in. I glanced at Carey, and he looked at me as if he felt the same way. I wondered if we would both end up in the same house.

Professor Ylva held up his hand for silence again "At Hogwarts," he began once everyone had settled down, "your house shall become your home and your new family. Central to the school year shall be the House Cup, which is awarded to the house with the most points at the end of the year. You shall earn points for your house with your achievements, and lose points should you break any rules. I trust each of you shall be a credit to the house you are sorted into."

"The Sorting Ceremony shall begin momentarily," said Professor Ylva. "Please follow me." Then he turned and with one motion of incredible strength, pushed open both of the double doors, revealing a vast hall filled with people. Floating candles lit four long tables at which the entire student population of the school sat, and one more table at the far end of the hall. In the very centre of this final table, facing us directly from afar, sat a smiling woman who I had never met, but recognised immediately. It was the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Welcome," said Professor Ylva, "to the Great Hall."

* * *

**Moran's POV**

The Sorting Ceremony began shortly after I got settled in beside Blake, who was still refusing to talk to me. Professors were casting me disappointed glances from the High Table, but I didn't pay much attention. I was still trying to decipher Aerik's parting clap on the back when he left the train. _Why am I so terrified of a kid? Granted, Aerik is no ordinary child… if any eleven year old can follow through on what he's planning, it's him._

I shivered and gripped the table nervously as the Sorting progressed, with Professor Ylva, who had led the first years into the Hall, reading out the names one by one. He was in the C's… then the G's… the L's… and before I knew it…

"Neverrem, Aerik!"

To his credit, Professor Ylva's voice didn't shake or crack as he read out Aerik's name; one would have been forgiven for thinking he saw nothing unusual about this student. The other teachers and the students were not so discreet. Everyone ceased talking, and the silence pressed in on everyone in the Hall, creating a melancholy atmosphere. Professor Neverrem had been a very popular teacher, and teachers and students alike still grieved for her death. The Headmistress was staring down at her golden chalice, clearly unable to watch.

Aerik's footsteps echoed loudly in the silence as he reached the stool. As he turned to face the student body, I saw his lips moving, mouthing something to himself – some sort of spell? Then I realised what he was doing._ Occlumency. He's using Occlumency. You idiot, Aerik. Are you trying to hide everything from the Hat? That's a dead giveaway – the Hat will tell the Headmistress he can't read you, and everyone will know something's up. You'll fail because of this!_

Aerik slipped the Sorting Hat on. Silence ensued.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

I bit my knuckles and sent a silent prayer to whatever god existed. _Please…_

Then the Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

_What?!_

All around me, the Gryffindor table exploded in cheers as they welcomed Aerik, wringing his hand and clapping him on the back. Of course, they would: they had adored Professor Neverrem more than any of the other houses. I was the only one not cheering: I stared in bewilderment as Aerik took a seat up the other end of the table. Aerik was no Gryffindor. It was the house he was least suited to, except perhaps Hufflepuff. I realised now that he must have used his Occlumency to convince the Hat he belonged in the house – but why? What use could he have for being sorted into a house he clearly didn't fit in?

Pulling my attention back to the Sorting, I noticed there were now only a handful of students left. Rowena and Carey were among them, along with a red-haired girl and another with snow-white hair and blue eyes – very familiar features, I noticed, looking from her to Professor Ylva. I remembered him mentioning once that he had a child that would soon begin attending at Hogwarts. Was this his daughter?

Professor Ylva read out the next name. "Rose, Octavia!"

The redhead stepped up to the stool. Before she dropped the hat onto her head, covering her eyes, I noticed that they were different colours: one a very light blue, even lighter than mine, and the other a dark green.

The Hat grunted as she placed it on, almost as if with surprise. It remained silent for a few seconds, and then yelled, "SLYTHERIN!"

Whispers erupted at the Slytherin table and, to a lesser extent, across the hall. I knew why: I prided myself on knowing all the wizarding families in Britain, and Rose was not a wizarding name, nor the name of a Muggle family a witch had married into. The girl must be a Muggle-born. Had a Muggle-born ever been sorted into Slytherin? I had certainly never heard of it happening before.

I jerked back to attention once more when I heard a name I recognised.

"Studwick, Rowena!"

I sat up straight to watch the girl nervously approach the Hat and put it on. Rowena seemed Hufflepuff material to me, or perhaps Ravenclaw, so I got quite the shock when the Hat barely even touched her head before proclaiming, "SLYTHERIN!"

Rowena froze for a few moments, then stumbled down to the Slytherin table, who clapped politely; it was a better reception than they'd given Octavia Rose, but not by much. I could barely believe it myself: sweet, stuttering Rowena, a Slytherin? Instinctively, I glanced down the Gryffindor table, my eyes seeking out Aerik. He was gazing speculatively at the Slytherins; Rowena's sorting must have caught him off guard too. I wondered if he was re-thinking his opinion of the girl.

And then there were only two students left: Carey and the girl who was possibly Professor Ylva's daughter.

"Whitcliffe, Carey!"

I waited. And waited. Someone's stomach rumbled, and I started to hear mutinous mutters: everyone was looking forward to the feast, and this kid was holding things up. I started to worry for the quiet boy as the minutes ticked past. Could he have gotten his letter by mistake? Was he not supposed to be at Hogwarts?

"Hatstall," I heard a seventh year say from Blake's other side. "The first in nearly half a century. We'll have to keep an eye on this one."

I checked my watch: it had, indeed, been more than five minutes, the traditional length of time that determined a Hatstall. These usually only came along once in a few decades, and I found myself wondering which houses the Hat must be deciding between. Carey hadn't talked much about himself, so any of the four were possible.

Finally, just as the six-minute mark was reached, the Hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table erupted with cheers, and several older students slapped Carey on the back in congratulations as he sat down. There was just the girl left now, and my suspicions about her identity were finally confirmed as Professor Ylva paused, straightening himself up, before booming her name with clear pride.

"Ylva, Victoria!"

Victoria Ylva strode confidently up to the stool and placed the Hat on firmly. A few moments later, the Hat once again announced, "RAVENCLAW!"

Professor Ylva clapped vigorously along with the Ravenclaws as Victoria took her seat. The girl immediately sent a fierce look at the Gryffindor table, and following her gaze, I noticed it was directed at Aerik. Aerik met her gaze with a sneer of his own. Clearly, something had happened between them between leaving the train and entering the Great Hall. Aerik was already making enemies, and I didn't know whether I was pleased or concerned by that.

Then Aerik looked away to answer a question a student beside him had asked, and I saw the familiar painted smile on his face. At that moment, I suddenly knew the answer to my earlier question: why he wanted to be sorted into Gryffindor. He was going to fool everyone. He was going to play the part of the hero, the brave soul who had pushed on despite his mother's death, and kept his humanity. And being a Gryffindor, no one would suspect him of being the villain. Not until it was too late.

The feast began and the table was suddenly covered with food. But for the first time in my time at Hogwarts, I didn't want to eat. In fact, I wanted to throw up.

_Please_, I thought wildly,_ someone, anyone! Give me strength and courage to go against him!_

_**I CAN'T LET HIM BURN HOGWARTS.**_


	6. How Long Will Hogwarts Last?

**How Long Will Hogwarts Last?**

**Moran's POV**

The feast was over, but I sat motionless at the Gryffindor table, my head bowed as I heard the ruckus of several hundred students gradually filing out of the Great Hall, bound for their house dormitories. I'd barely been able to force down any food at all, and although every part of me wanted to just head up to bed and forget this day ever happened, I couldn't find it in myself to move a muscle.

Dimly, I wondered if anyone noticed my distress. A student, or even a teacher. I allowed myself to hope a professor might come alongside me and kindly ask what was wrong. Then I would tell them of every plan Aerik had ever concocted, redeem myself and save Hogwarts. But I knew no one would: adults were blind and never took any of a kid's problems seriously. It would be their downfall and the downfall of Hogwarts.

Suddenly, a hand clapped gently on my shoulder, as if comforting me. Disbelievingly, I looked around and my momentary hope dissolved into ashes. It was Aerik, wearing a smile – **that** smile. All sweetness and innocence, and yet I knew it was nothing more than a mockery. As such, the smile now meant to me nothing more or less than terror.

I glanced down at my plate, where my uneaten food had disappeared from moments before, leaving pristine silverware. _The magic of Hogwarts_, I mused darkly. _How long will it last now?_ My plea from moments before crossed my mind, and I almost chuckled to myself. Even if anyone did confront me, I would never be brave enough to do what was right.

It took a huge effort for me to leave my seat and stand up, but I finally managed it. I sent one final, long look at the High Table; not one of the professors was looking my way. No one saw the child leading a terrified fourth year like a puppeteer. With a sigh that I barely prevented from becoming a whimper, I straightened my robe and followed Aerik out of the Great Hall.

Although I was considerably larger than him, Aerik always seemed so much bigger with his back facing me, as I followed in his wake. It was enough to make me wonder if he was using wandless magic to do it. In any case, it never failed to intimidate me and enhance his power in my eyes. Whether it would be enough to succeed in his self-appointed task, I didn't know. All I was sure of was that at some point, inevitably, I would die at his hand. How, why, and under what circumstance I didn't know, but something made me certain that that would be my fate. Someday, Aerik would kill me.

We stopped near the courtyard that I knew very well. I had spent a lot of time here in my first year when I first read of the historic battle where a Dark wizard by the name of Voldemort met his end at the hands of the still famous and widely-celebrated hero, Harry Potter. I would imagine the battle raging, spells flying in every direction causing rampant destruction and chaos before, finally, good triumphed over evil. Now, involuntarily, I imagined the same, but with a different result: the evil wizard triumphing in a haze of bloodshed and devastation: only it was not Voldemort, but the boy I was following… Aerik.

Instinctively, I grabbed my wand and held it behind my back with a shaking hand, hoping Aerik wouldn't notice.

"We… we should really be going to bed… to Gryffindor Tower…" I stammered. My mouth had gone very dry and I swallowed before finishing. "C-curfew starts soon."

Aerik didn't seem to be listening. He'd rummaged in the folds of his robes and had pulled out a book – the same book he carried everywhere with him. Slowly, he turned around to face me, but he did not look at me, instead bending his head down over the book. With his bowed head, he looked very much like an actor in a dimly-lit theatre, despite the chirping of small insects and occasional hoots of owls that punctuated the silence.

I waited nervously. Was Aerik going to end it here and now; was this his idea of a dramatic murder? _I can do this_, I told myself, gripping my wand tightly. _I have to protect myself. I have to forget the child he once was, and duel him as an enemy. He's not the Aerik I once knew._

But Aerik did not pull out his wand, or a knife, or any kind of weapon. Instead, he began to read from the book. In fact, 'read' was too dull a word; every syllable radiated an emotion and a passion that any performer would envy.

"What is **Life**?" Aerik boomed, raising his head to look toward the sky. "What is **Death**?" His black eyes reflected the gleam of the moon high above the wispy clouds.

_Pardon?_ I thought, but didn't dare say.

"Are they merely passages or openings to new experiences or an end to one's existence? I believe those are only measly definitions. Everybody claims to know what Death is… But can one truly define a state of being they have not themselves experienced? Is it possible? Is it impossible?" Clutching the book against his chest like a lifeline, Aerik slowly lowered his head to face me directly at last. The expression on his face was one I knew well even if I hadn't seen it in a while; a look of desolation and mourning, the one he had worn for the first several months after his mother's death.

"Many years I have thought and pondered on what those two strange concepts mean to me. Why it happens so suddenly and so unexpectedly… Granted, perhaps one does have a clear understanding of Life. We are born out of love, or else simply out of obligation. But why do we die? In this world where magic exists, why does one die? Wizards and witches all around the world have created spells for every purpose bar one. We can create and destroy Life, each with consummate ease… but not one can prevent Death. **Why?!**" He roared out the final word, at the same time closing the book with an audible _snap_. His question demanded an answer from his audience of one: me.

It was an answer I couldn't give, and my feeling of apprehension grew. I gripped my wand even tighter, so tightly that I worried it might snap.

"This abstract thing that devastates and destroys the soul," Aerik continued, clearly still speaking from the closed book; he must have read the words very many times to memorise them so. "For all my contemplations, I still cannot understand why it brings so many unwanted emotions. After everything that has happened, I think that feeling is no longer necessary..." He brought his head down, closed his eyes and sighed deeply, and I sensed the relaxation of tension, the release of some deeply held pain. After a few seconds, those eyelids fluttered open again and all the emotion and intensity was gone; his black eyes were dull and empty once more.

"Wise words, aren't they, Moran?" said Aerik quietly, stowing the book away in his robes. "Words written by an interesting fellow, not unlike me in some ways." The boy habitually combed his hair back, and for one rare moment, looked every bit the normal eleven-year-old, with his own little nervous habits.

Then he looked me in the eyes and his face hardened again, into a rictus of hatred. "Know one thing, Moran," he growled. "My family had always treated you as one of our own. Gave you a home when nobody would ever want someone like you. But if you ever thought that I valued you as anything more than the tool you are, then you are deeply mistaken. You are **NOTHING** to me."

For a moment, I didn't see Aerik. I only saw the hatred that consumed his soul, uttering every horrible thing he could think of at the moment. I was used to it. I knew how much I owed the Neverrems. I knew it well; it was the true reason why I could never betray Aerik, no matter how much I wished to.

Aerik turned his back on me and marched out of the courtyard, up towards Gryffindor Tower. I didn't bother wondering how he knew the way; I knew how much research he had done, knew he had memorised every room, corridor, and staircase of the castle. I kept my head down as I followed him, trying to tune out the words he'd mutter every time I got within earshot: "Fancy this… a fourth year, terrified of a first year… pathetic… some Gryffindor you are…"

It was a sport of Aerik's to insult, belittle and hurt me in any way he could, knowing I could not respond in kind. For my part, I could only try not to let him see the pain he caused me. In that, perhaps, I could have a victory.

Soon enough, we arrived at the oil painting of the Fat Lady. We were alone; due to our detour, everyone else had reached the common room before us.

I didn't know the password, but somehow, Aerik did. "How wonderful to meet you, at last, my lovely lady," he said, bowing low. _"Lacum leonum."_

The Fat Lady blushed deeply and giggled. "Thank you, kind sir!" she said, but Aerik was already gone beyond the portrait hole.

The large woman in the Greek-inspired setting and dress gave me a questioning look and I sighed. "Yes, I'll tell him how thankful you are."

Something of my preoccupation must have shown on my face because the Fat Lady's eyes softened. "Is something the matter, dear boy?" she asked kindly.

Her sympathy only made me feel worse, knowing that there was nothing she could do about the situation, nothing anyone could do. I shook my head quickly and hurried into the common room after Aerik.

I immediately made a beeline for the boys' dormitory, but fate hadn't had enough fun with me yet for one day.

"Oi, you – Safrel!"

I stopped dead and turned slowly. I knew that voice; everyone knew who 'The Snatcher' was. I was more surprised to see Blake with him; they were both sitting in a couple of the cosy armchairs by the fire, the type that you only got if you were extremely popular or stayed out in the common room after everyone else had gone to bed. I hadn't thought Blake had risen so high as to attract the attention of Levi Warner, but I put it down to, once more, not knowing him as well as I thought I had.

"Have a seat," said the Snatcher, and patting the armchair across from him. "Shall I call you Moran?"

My first thought was to decline his offer, but I needed something to take my mind off of Aerik's words. Besides, you didn't refuse the Snatcher.

"Whatever's fine with you, Warner," I said, slumping on the armchair opposite him.

The older boy grinned. "Call me Levi."

Levi Warner and Blake immediately returned to a conversation they must have been halfway through when I'd entered. I paid lukewarm attention, but every time I opened my mouth to speak, it seemed, Aerik's words would ring loudly in my ears.

_Pathetic… Some Gryffindor you are… You are **NOTHING** to me…_

I made to stand. Suddenly, a blunt force knocked me back into my seat. I didn't know how Levi had moved so quickly, but the large boy was now standing over me, his olive green eyes flashing dangerously.

"Ya know, it's rude to just get up and leave," he rumbled. "What's the deal?"

Blake yawned.

"What the hell… d'you think you're… doing?" I grunted, trying in vain to push myself up; Levi's grip was too strong.

"What am _I_ doing?" chuckled Levi. "I'm Levi Warner, the Snatcher. I do what I want. I'm the alpha male of Hogwarts. And me an' Blake have some questions for you."

Blake had stood up to approach me. His eyes were narrowed in curiosity. I decided that was a marginal improvement over his anger on the Hogwarts Express.

"You've been acting real strange since the Sorting Ceremony," he said, his softer voice contrasting with Levi's. "Who's the kid?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied firmly.

"Neverrem, isn't it?" Blake pressed. "He was in your compartment on the train – I saw when I passed – and you were looking at him all through the feast."

"I don't know him," I insisted, shaking my head vigorously. "I don't know…" I was starting to panic again. Why did everyone want something from me today? Hogwarts was the only place I had come to love: couldn't I enjoy it in peace for whatever time it had left?

Levi was shaking me now. "If you don't talk, I'll-"

"Back off, Levi," said Blake sharply, and Levi let go. I looked between the two of them in surprise. I'd thought Levi was the one in charge between the two of them. Was I wrong?

Blake put his hands on my shoulder. "I'm not trying to be pushy," he said, shooting a quick glare at Levi, "but you just came into the common room with the kid, looking like you were about to piss your pants. Why are you scared of a firstie?"

I stared at them, horrified. They were not supposed to know or see anything. Aerik would order me to dispose of them, to kill them – or worse.

Blake shook his head. "Moran, last year was shit, and I'm still mad about that. But, damn it… I'm worried about you, mate. You're not yourself."

Blake's voice seemed far away as I thought… was this my chance? Was this the moment I could tell somebody, confess everything. My eyes wandered the common room to see who was listening in, and as I looked up, my heart dropped like a stone. Aerik was standing above me, halfway up the staircase leading to the boy's dormitories. As I watched, he met my eyes and shook his head once. He knew.

Then I saw the pale arm that rested on Aerik's shoulder.

I followed the arm with my eyes and saw a woman in a black dress with a black veil covering her face. She was clearly dead, yet she stood, staring at me just as Aerik did, and as I watched, she mouthed a single word through her blue lips.

_"**Traitor…**"_

Suddenly a horrible shriek split the room. It took me a moment to realise that it was me, screaming at the top of my lungs, covering my ears at the sound, feeling as though they'd bleed. All I knew was this woman – this dangerous, deadly woman – was going to do something to me much worse than death. I had to run. I had to hide. But I could only writhe on the ground, screaming like a maniac as pyjama-clad Gryffindors spilled into the common room, running to see what the fuss was about.

"NO! NO! LET ME GO!"

Through the incoherence of my mind, a single rational thought surfaced. _What is happening to me?_

* * *

** Octavia's POV**

My first morning at Hogwarts came quickly. Groggily, I climbed out of bed and headed for the bathrooms, brushing another student as I passed. She shot me a disgusted look – one of many I had received already.

I glared back, not wanting to show weakness. Inwardly, I was starting to question whether the Sorting Hat had made a mistake. _What is up with this house? Am I not supposed to be here?_

I quickly showered and dressed, eager to leave behind the gloomy atmosphere of the Slytherin common room. The cold dungeon walls made me feel trapped, and even the name of the house sounded depressing. I made a mental note to always leave early for classes.

On that subject, classes would start today; that was the part of Hogwarts I was looking forward to most, learning magic. I wondered how the professors would act. Would they be similar to teachers in the world I used to live in – the Muggle world, as these people would call it? I hoped I wouldn't draw their attention too much. I was not exactly the shy type, but I hated when people stared at my mismatched eyes, and last night hundreds of people had seen them. I remembered covering both of them even though I truly did like the blue one; if only both had been that colour.

I slapped my cheeks, telling myself to snap out of it. _Nothing can put me down! Not even the snobby kids. I'm at magic school now!_ Walking with deliberate confidence, I reached the huge metal doors of the dungeon only to notice another Slytherin first year, one of my dormmates who I hadn't noticed leaving the dormitory before me. It was the black-haired girl, Rowena Studwick, the only one who hadn't looked down her nose at me. She was standing near the exit, looking quite nervous, but she smiled when she saw me and pulling out her wand, waved it and sent letters into the air.

**Octavia, isn't it? I hope your first night wasn't too bad.**

I stared at her. _Is she mute?_ I shrugged to myself. _Only one way to find out!_

"Yes, I am indeed Octavia! But you can call me Tavia." I said brightly, holding out a hand for her to shake. As soon as she took it, I bombarded her with questions, figuring she would answer without hesitation if she didn't have time to think. "Are you mute or are you just not a talkative one? Which one is it? Also, what spell do you use for that? How come you don't need to talk when casting a spell? I was told by the wandmaker that one is supposed to utter the enchantment as one waves the wand? Is that not true?"

Rowena blinked, and I could see her trying to unscramble the questions inside her head. Finally, she waved her wand again.

**I'm sorry, but could you repeat those questions one at a time?**

_Oops, _I thought. _Must have gone overboard. _"Sorry, I'm just a bit excited this morning. I mean, we're at Hogwarts!"

Rowena laughed.

**You're Muggle-born, aren't you? You mustn't know much about this world yet, so sure, I'll help you. We'd better get to class first, though!**

I'd thought we'd woken up very early, but apparently you did need to be quick if you wanted to beat the breakfast rush. In any case, I had a new friend beside me in Rowena. She was able to answer all my questions and more – she wasn't mute, as it turned out, she just had an embarrassingly bad stutter – and she was able to 'tell' me plenty about the wizarding world from an insider's perspective, including the classism that seemed to pervade between pure-blood wizards and witches, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns like me.

"I don't get it," I said at last as we reached the Entrance Hall. "Why the hate for Muggle-borns?" Speaking that word made me want to vomit: it sounded so derogatory. I wondered why they couldn't just refer to everyone coming from the non-magical world as the 'Talented', or some other positive or encouraging word. I tamped down on my anger, however. There are other people milling around the hall, and I didn't want to make a scene.

Rowena pursed her lips before replying, **Our house's founder, Salazar Slytherin, only wanted pure-bloods at the school.**

"What about-" I began, intending to ask about half-bloods, but Rowena had already guessed my next thought and was waving her wand again.

**Half-bloods are accepted, if they can prove themselves. Mostly because there aren't many real pure-bloods anymore. They've all died out because of inbreeding.** She hesitated, then added, **A Muggle-born in Slytherin is unheard of though. I've read Hogwarts: A History and it doesn't mention a single Muggle-born Slytherin. You might be the first.**

Somehow, that explanation made me feel better. I wasn't out of place. I was simply a trailblazer, the first of my kind. "Well, then," I said, "I'd better start showing Slytherin what they've been missing!"

Rowena smiled. **That's the spirit!**

That was when I saw him: a small boy with startlingly black eyes and an unusually serious expression emerged from the staircase on the other side of the hall. I didn't remember him from the Sorting – I must not have been paying attention – but his scarlet and gold tie marked him as a Gryffindor.

Rowena seemed to know him. "Aerik!" she called, half-running towards him. I followed in her wake, a bit startled; this was the first time I'd heard her voice. I didn't hear any hint of a stutter; then again, Aerik was a quite simple word.

Aerik barely acknowledged Rowena; he seemed engrossed in an ancient-looking, yellow-paged book in front of him. I frowned. _That's rather rude of him._

Finally, he looked up. "Rowena," he greeted. His voice was courteous, but distant – not exactly friendly. "Nice weather today, isn't it? Makes you want to take a stroll throughout the castle… but I never thought you'd be in Slytherin. Quite a surprise."

Rowena nodded and waved her wand, 'talking' to Aerik in her usual way.

**I didn't think much of it, really. I always knew in my heart I'd be placed in Slytherin.**

"Oh? Interesting." Aerik did indeed look mildly interested. I wasn't sure I liked the look on his face, though. What did he want with Rowena? "I'll have to get back to you on that. I have somewhere to be. I'd love to have a word with you later in the day, if you don't mind?"

And with that, Aerik strode off with a final, long look at Rowena and then a short glance at me. Once again, the look on his face – a small, enigmatic smile – set me on edge. Gritting my teeth, I turned to Rowena who didn't look bothered by it. She nodded her farewell and quickly stared at her feet. I noticed her face had turned very red.

I looked back at the boy as he walked away, his hand absently combing his dark brown hair that separated into soft tufts. I bit my lip as he rounded a turn and disappeared. Logically, I had to admit he hadn't said or done anything particularly terrible in this meeting. So why did I get the feeling he wasn't a very nice person at all?

* * *

**Aerik's POV**

I rubbed my eyes as I made my way through the halls towards the hospital wing. I'd barely gotten a wink of sleep the previous night after the racket that Moran had caused, screaming his head off like that. All my new dormmates had stayed up late talking about 'that nutcase', and given how few Gryffindors were out and about early this morning, I suspected everyone in the older dormitories had done the same.

I was as surprised as anyone. If there was one good thing I could say about Moran, it was that he had a strong mind and a resilient character. He was the last person I would have expected to lose control of himself so utterly. Unbelievably, as much as it pained me to admit it, I was actually **worried** about him. I knew that made me a hypocrite, given what I'd said to him the night previously, which was certainly true. I didn't value him – he was useful, nothing more, and barely even that. So why was I concerned for him, concerned enough even to visit him in the hospital?

I didn't like the answers that presented themselves and pushed them forcibly into the back of my mind. Instead, I re-checked my mental map of the many corridors and rooms of Hogwarts, the one I had memorised over countless days studying the school. If I was on the right track, the hospital wing should be around the next corner… and there it was, the door slightly ajar. Through the crack I could see Moran, sipping something from a small goblet; was it tea or perhaps medicine?

I knocked on the door as I entered. Moran saw me and the goblet fell to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. He scooted as far away from me as possible as I took the seat beside his hospital bed. _What is wrong with him?_ I wondered. _It can't just be the words I told him yesterday… I've said much worse before, haven't I?_

There were three other people in the room, none of whom seemed to notice my entrance. The matron, an old lady, was taking care of something in the corner. The only other patient, a boy about Moran's age with dark brown jazz-singer hair and intelligent grey eyes that I made sure to avoid, was lying in the bed opposite Moran. He seemed to be trying to convince his visiting friend to leave, in between loud toadlike croaks.

"You really don't have to – croak – be here, Feulner – **croak!** – I don't want you – CROAK! – missing classes because of me – **CROOOAK!** – Just go!"

Feulner, a blond boy with blue eyes that complemented his hair perfectly, shook his head, his expression radiating concern. "You're not getting rid of me, Ricardo!" he said firmly. "Not till you've stopped croaking like a frog. I'm staying however long it takes."

Ricardo groaned and croaked again, but seemed to acquiesce. Trying not to laugh at the comical situation, I looked back to Moran. He still looked absolutely terrified to be in my presence. Figuring there was nothing more that I could do here, I stood to leave, when finally I heard a hoarse whisper behind me. Moran had regained the power of speech.

"A – a w-w-woman…" he breathed, and as I looked back into his eyes, I saw the same abject terror that had permeated his screams last night. "Who…?"

I blinked, but before I could tell him I had no idea what he was talking about, I heard the clacking of shoes; the matron had finished whatever it was she was doing in the corner. She pursed her lips, and then with a wave of her wand, the mess on the floor vanished.

"Sorry," I lied to her. "I think I startled him. Thanks for taking care of him."

I left the old woman to take care of Moran and made my way back down to the Entrance Hall. There were timetables being handed out to all the students who, like me, had skipped breakfast. I briefly glanced at mine, noting school started at nine o'clock, and then looked at the huge clock, which read eight twenty-three. Plenty of time to find my first class.

I knew from my research that Hogwarts had six periods a day, each forty-five minutes with fifteen-minute breaks in between, and a lunch hour starting at noon. Perusing the Monday column of my timetable more closely, I saw that my first two classes were Potions with Professor Letterwood and Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Addington, followed by a free period. After lunch were the two extracurricular classes I had signed up for: Magical Theory and Orchestra, and another free period to finish. It looked as if they'd changed the class schedule from previous years.

My stomach growled at the thought of lunch. I was beginning to regret skipping breakfast. "No food is ever the same!" I remember my housemates saying. I would have to wait until lunch to find out if that was true. For now, I reached into my robe and pulled out a Snickers bar, which I unwrapped and stuffed whole inside my mouth. _Mmm. Muggle chocolate. No magic infused._

As I set off for the dungeons, where the Potions classroom was located, I glanced at the rest of the week's classes; every day was different. I noticed a note at the bottom of Wednesday's column saying students were required in the Astronomy Tower at midnight each week for a practical lesson. Flying lessons were scheduled for Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday afternoons, and I shivered. I'd always had an extreme fear of heights, a weakness that I hated about myself. _Why would I ever need to ride on a broom, anyway, when we've got carriages, Floo powder, Apparition, and Portkeys? I wish they'd let me opt out of that damn class._

I forced my mind to think of other things as I entered the dungeon passageway leading to the class. With still more than half an hour left until class, no one else was around, and I savoured the solitude, knowing it was the last quiet moment I would have for several hours.

* * *

By the end of my first class, I was already ready for the day to end. Potions had gotten close to a riot, with several students' attempt at their first potion literally blowing up in their faces, and people shoved past me in the corridor in their rush to leave and get to their next class before the break was over.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was on the second floor, and I arrived there, out of breath and cursing my physical weakness, with barely a minute to spare. Thankfully, the door was marked clearly, with 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' engraved in block letters above a Roman numeral number one. Everyone looked at me as I entered; I was the last student to arrive for a class of about thirty. The Gryffindors were paired with the Slytherins for this class, and the only open seat was next to Rowena. _Perfect_, I thought.

I surveyed the room as I sat down. The classroom looked mystical and foreboding, even more so than you'd expect for a class about the Dark Arts. A huge skeleton of a wyvern hung from the ceiling, and many jars of sharp teeth, wiggling worms, and hissing arachnids stood on various cabinets and bookshelves around the edges of the room. Some of the animals looked alive while others lay unmoving, clearly dead.

I turned to Rowena, who looked apprehensive, and gave her a false smile. She hesitantly smiled back – just as I'd hoped. I clearly had her fooled. She would serve as a very useful pawn on my chessboard.

There was a cough from the front corner of the room, where the doorway was, and everyone looked to see who had come through. It was a woman: one I had seen at the High Table the previous evening, so I deduced she was our professor. She didn't look at all what I expected based on the decor of her classroom. Delicate and skinny, she wore her medium brown hair in a sleek bun, and her olive skin accentuated her searching hazel eyes. She was dressed in a plain navy blue dress.

"Attention, students!" said the woman. "As your timetables will no doubt have told you, I am Professor Addington, and I will be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."

Professor Addington paused and scanned the room until her eyes fell on me. She walked straight to me and put a hand on my shoulder; I struggled not to flinch.

"Mister Neverrem, am I correct?" she said, not unkindly.

"Yes, Professor," I muttered.

Professor Addington nodded sadly. "I am aware that your mother was a professor of Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts before her passing," she said quietly. "I am sorry for your loss."

All eyes were focused on me once again, and I tensed. I knew they were waiting to see if I wept, or lashed out, or fled the room. Some, I knew, wanted the chance to mourn my mother's death with me; others would laugh at my suffering. I didn't find either option appealing, so I shook my head and answered evenly.

"No, I'm sure whoever killed my mother will find themselves imprisoned in Azkaban… for **life.**" A cold smile curled my face. "Or if not…" I deliberately left the sentence hanging.

Professor Addington looked uneasy for a few moments. "Well, no one knows who or what was responsible for your mother's death," she said, clearly trying to retain some control over the situation. "I too hope the culprit is found and brought to justice."

The professor then quickly let the subject alone in favour of starting her lesson. Moving to her desk where a small cage sat, she pulled on a red cloth which revealed a tiny amount of little, snapping winged creatures, which I recognised immediately.

"Today, students, we will be learning about Doxies!" Professor Addington beamed at us. "They may not look like much, but I assure you that they are quite the mischievous little beasts – dangerous, as well, so I certainly won't be releasing them here. Now, if you please, open your books to page twenty-seven…"

I tuned out the rest of the lecture. I didn't even really need the book: Doxies were an elementary topic for me: my mother, always the teacher, had taught me about them and many other creatures besides from when I was a small boy. I could recite from memory many of the facts the textbook stated. _They have sharp venomous teeth… Can kill within hours of an untreated bite… Specific herbs are used to treat such wounds…_

Professor Addington continued to chatter on. She even sounded a bit like my mother… or was that just my confused imagination? My heart aching for what I'd lost, I started to lose myself in the bittersweet memory…

* * *

_My mother's tall figure stood in front of a medium-sized box resting on top of a wooden table. Her hands were fast as she impersonated a Muggle magician, taking the thin sheet of cloth resting on top of the boxy shape of the cage to reveal nothing. The cage appeared to be empty of life._

_**"What? Nothing?"**_ _she said dramatically, looking left and right in mock dismay. Then she grinned and laughed. __**"Oh ho ho! I know where they've gone!"**_ _She replaced the cloth over the cage and tapped it with her short wand of eight inches. **"Aparecium!"**_

_A bright, blinding light illuminated the cage and, when it had dissipated, a muffled chattering sound could be heard from under the cloth. Mother whisked the cloth away, revealing that the cage was no longer empty. Three little winged fairy-like critters jostled one another, snarled, and beat vainly against the bars holding them in captivity._

_**"Doxies!" **__exclaimed Mother. __**"Three of them, Aerik! I wanted to bring back a whole swarm, but the Headmistress only let me take a few… but better three than none! Aren't they adorable?!"**_

_My mother shook with excitement as she explained the sharp-toothed fairies' lifestyle, dislikes, and many other strange facts. She held my hand gently and led me closer to the cage the creatures were contained in. Multiple bite marks covered a specific corner inside the compound, where the three Doxies had gnawed trying to force their way out. As I approached, one of them flew at the cage wall, rattling it slightly, but the cage held firm._

_I cried out in fear, turning and running to the farthest corner of the room. But before I knew it, warm arms enveloped me._

_**"Oh, Aerik. There's nothing to be afraid of! Mummy's here to protect you. Don't be afraid…"**_

_Mother carried me to a wobbly wooden chair at the side of the room, holding me close to her chest. I snuggled into her arms as she planted a kiss on my cheek._

_**"I'll protect you no matter what. I'll never leave you, my sweet little Rik!"**_

* * *

But there were no arms around me. I was sitting in a cold classroom chair. I was back in reality, and Professor Addington was finally finishing her lecture and setting some questions for us to answer. Everyone rustled through their bags looking for quills and parchment and I did the same, not really paying attention to what I was doing, still lost in thought.

_If the one who killed my mother isn't in Azkaban…_ I continued my interrupted thoughts. _I'll kill them myself. And all the better if they're still here in this damn school… they'll burn along with everybody else._

I finally found my quill and noticed Rowena still looking through her bag. She was muttering to herself, which surprised me from the girl who avoided speaking at all costs. No… not muttering, I realised. Hissing.

I stared. Was it possible…?

Rowena looked up and saw me watching her. Her breath caught immediately, and she looked like a deer in the headlights. "Ae-r-rik," she stammered immediately, her stutter even worse than usual. "A-are y-you o-o-ok-kay?"

I took a deep breath. I needed to know. "Rowena, are you a Parselmouth?"

Rowena shrank back, looking terrified. I knew why. Parselmouths, aside from being extremely rare, had a terrible reputation. Some of the worst Dark wizards in history could talk to snakes: Salazar Slytherin, Herpo the Foul, Voldemort… But I didn't care about that. This was an opportunity I hadn't expected, one I had to take advantage of.

Rowena fumbled for her wand and waved it shakily under the table, so no one else could see. **Yes. But please don't tell anyone!**

I smiled comfortingly at her. This was perfect. If she felt like she owed me…

"It's okay," I whispered. "I won't. But… but… since I was a kid I've wanted to go into the Chamber of Secrets. I know where it is, but I can't get in. You can. Can we go down there and explore sometime? Please?"

Rowena still looked afraid as she considered her answer. I held my breath as I waited for her answer. I knew I couldn't force her… not yet, anyway. I wasn't strong enough. But I had to ask. I had to try.

Finally, the girl visibly steeled herself and muttered a soft, "Y-Yes."

It was music to my ears. I smiled broadly. Rowena smiled back.

Everything was going according to plan.


	7. Flying Class at Three-Thirty

**Flying Class at Three-Thirty**

**Rowena's POV**

**"... since I was a kid I've wanted to go into the Chamber of Secrets. I know where it is, but I can't get in. You can. Can we go down there and explore sometime? Please?"**

Aerik's words stuck with me for days afterward. Even during classes, I would catch myself daydreaming about his smile, the one he gave me when I agreed to go with him on his quest. I could imagine him as a little boy, hearing about Salazar Slytherin's secret chamber, wanting more than anything to get the chance to see it. He clearly knew that the only way to get inside the Chamber was to speak Parseltongue, otherwise he wouldn't have asked me. I wondered if he was disappointed to be sorted into Gryffindor, and had thought there was no chance he'd ever get to live his dream… until now.

I myself knew perfectly well where the Chamber of Secrets was, and how to get in, of course. Behind closed doors, my father always boasted of being a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself. That, he claimed, was why we all had the rare and unpopular ability to speak Parseltongue: it was a trait inherited from the infamous co-founder of Hogwarts. My family never trusted outsiders with this secret, because of Slytherin's dark reputation. The popular story of the Chamber's creation, in fact, said that Slytherin had intended to purge the school of Muggle-borns. I didn't know if that was true or not, and I didn't really care to find out. I had nothing against Muggle-borns, and nor did my immediate family, so it didn't really matter what my many-times-great-grandfather thought, did it?

What really worried me, as I studied my reflection in the mirror on the second Friday afternoon of term, was what Aerik thought of my ability. Since our talk on the first day, he had acknowledged me politely in the corridors, but we hadn't had another conversation and he hadn't mentioned the Chamber again. I was starting to get worried. Had he worked out that as a Parseltongue, I might be a descendant of Slytherin? Did he know the stories of the basilisk that once roamed and might (for all I knew) still be roaming the tunnels leading to the Chamber? Was he now regretting asking me to take him down there? Was that why he wasn't talking to me about it? Were we even friends?

I grabbed a silver comb and started yanking it through my short hair, trying my best to ignore my panicked thoughts. _Of course, we're friends_, I reassured myself. _He's probably busy with classes and homework, that's all_. Without my permission, images of Aerik popped into my mind. I thought of the way he would often get lost in his own thoughts with that smile plastered on his face. The expression made him look very cute… handsome, even.

I fumbled the comb, and it dropped to the floor. As I stooped to retrieve it, I caught sight of my reflection in the glossy mirror, noticing that my cheeks were ruddy red. Taking a deep breath to collect myself, I lightly put the comb down on top of the black vanity cabinet and opened the bottom drawer. Books covered in soft pastel colors containing romantic stories written by successful Muggle writers were neatly stacked inside. I dithered for a moment before deciding I really didn't need to be thinking those sorts of thoughts right now. I slowly closed the drawer.

"Hey, Rowena!" It was Tavia, dressed and ready for dinner after having taken an afternoon shower during our last free period. She shook back her still-wet ginger hair and frowned at me. "What's the matter? Are you sick or something? Should we visit the hospital wing before dinner?"

Tavia strode over to me and felt my forehead. I heaved a deep sigh and patted my cheek lightly with one hand. Flashes of Aerik's face kept on showing up, only adding to the confusion I was currently feeling. _Could I be…?_ I shook my head. _It couldn't be that… could it?_

"Nah, not sick," Tavia announced. Suddenly, she giggled, placing a hand on top of my head. "Which means there's only one thing it can be… you're thinking of a boy, aren't you?"

I shook my head vigorously, trying to convince myself as much as Tavia that I was not crushing on Aerik. Grabbing my wand, I nearly poked Tavia's eye out in writing, **I'm only eleven. Why would I be thinking about boys?**

"I smell denial," said Tavia in a sing-song voice, as she dragged a towel over her wet hair. Puckering her lips, she mimed kissing the open air. "Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!"

I threw a pillow at her and missed badly. She laughed and, after a moment, I started laughing as well. Tavia was so ridiculous that I couldn't get angry with her if I tried.

Tavia stepped up to me and tweaked a lock of my hair. "Seriously," she said, "you can tell me. Maybe I can help."

I bit my lip, thinking. Truthfully, I did want to tell Tavia. She'd quickly become my best friend here at Hogwarts and I knew I could trust her. The trouble was, I didn't really know how I felt myself. Did I really like Aerik that way? As I'd told Tavia, I **was** only eleven. That was too young, surely? It must be just a passing thing.

Tavia pouted as soon as she saw I wasn't going to answer. But then her heterochromic eyes gleamed. "I know who it is! I know who you like!" she exclaimed, putting her hair up in a wild ponytail. "It's Zeke Feulner, isn't it?"

There was a shriek from the dormitory doorway, and we both turned to see that several of the other first-year girls had arrived. I suppressed a hiss: the one who shrieked was a girl who, after just two weeks at Hogwarts, I had already learned to hate. Hair the colour of dark chocolate, tied pristinely in a knot as always, light brown eyes, and an expression as hard as the rock that was her namesake. Esmeralda Flint.

Flint stood front and centre, with the other three girls all standing behind her; all were fair-haired and I could never tell which was which. "Zeke Feulner?" she squealed. "Oh my Salazar, he's handsome, isn't he? Hottest bloke in the whole school."

"Don't you just love his hair?" said one of her posse, just as excitedly. "Blonde and shiny and silky…"

"And those eyes… divine!" said another.

I rolled my eyes. This was exactly why I disliked Flint and truthfully didn't have much patience for any of my dormmates besides Tavia. Apart from the fact that they all hated Tavia for being Muggle-born, they were silly and shallow: this sort of talk was quite typical of them.

Unfortunately, my derision hadn't gone unnoticed. "Not so hot on Feulner, are you, Studwick?" sneered Flint, and all eyes shot to me. "The company you keep, shunning your pure-blood fellows and consorting with the Mudblood," she jerked a thumb back at Tavia, who glared back at her, unfazed, "and you don't even like Feulner? Would almost think you're chasing for the other team…"

Her cronies laughed unkindly. I felt my face burning again. Thankfully, I had someone on my side.

"Oh, shut up, Flint," snapped Tavia, still glaring with hands on hips. "D'you really think all your stupid prattle makes you superior or something? No one wants to hear you shriek like harpies, and talking crap about people just makes you look stupid when they end up doing better than you anyway. Have you managed to turn your match into a needle in Professor Ylva's class yet? Rowena and I did it in our first week."

Flint glowered but didn't have a comeback. It helped that of all the first-year girls, Tavia was the tallest, and with her stern impression, she cut an imposing figure.

"Watch your mouth, Mudblood," she hissed at last. "C'mon," she muttered to the others, and they followed her out of the dorm, leaving myself and Tavia alone.

As soon as Flint and the others were gone, Tavia collapsed on my bed, roaring with laughter. "What a moron," she giggled. "Chasing for the other team… she must think she's so clever, but she's thicker than a troll. Don't worry about her, Row. She's all talk." She broke out into another fit of giggles, clutching her sides.

I smiled and waved my wand again. **Thanks for sticking up for me.**

"Not a problem," said Tavia, tidying her ponytail again. "You're my friend. And they should know better than to pick a fight with **this** Mudblood." She struck a pose and I laughed.

As always, Tavia was very good at taking my mind off things. Now, however, my thoughts returned to Aerik, and my fascination with him that I was still trying to convince myself was definitely not a crush. I gazed at the bottom drawer of my vanity, still half-open from minutes earlier. This time, on a whim, I withdrew one of the books from the drawer at random.

I sat on the end of my bed, placed the book in my lap, flipped it open to a random page and read. _She could feel her face heating up and her heart pounding like a drum as he took a step closer…_ Groaning, I slammed the book shut again. This was hitting far too close to the truth.

"Is that a romance novel?" said Tavia interestedly and I jolted. She was standing right next to the bed, reading the title of the book over my shoulder. Her red hair was all done up now and her small black cat, Jasper, was purring contentedly in her arms.

"Wow, you do have it bad," said Tavia, and though I avoided her gaze, I could tell she was grinning like the cat that caught the canary. "So, is it Feulner? You've never even talked to him, let alone had a proper conversation… unless you've been hiding something from me?"

I shook my head glumly. **No, it's not Feulner. I don't even know what I feel. I can't explain it.**

Tavia seemed to understand this wasn't the time for jokes. She held out a hand to help pull me off the bed and smiled sympathetically. "Don't think too much about it, then," she suggested. "You're right, we're just kids, so let's enjoy it. Relationships and hard stuff like that, that's for grown-ups. Right now, it's dinnertime, and I'm a lot more interested in food than boys!"

At that moment, my stomach grumbled and we both laughed. **You're right. Let's eat!** I wrote, and departed the room with my best friend, as confident as I could be that I was not in love with anyone.

* * *

** Victoria's POV**

"Victoria! Young lady! Do this! Don't do that!"

I muttered under my breath, mimicking my father's typical lecturing tone, cursing him in my head. It was freezing in the courtyard as I sat on the steps, waiting for Carey, my Muggle-born housemate. It was Father who insisted on me being a guide to the Muggle-borns in my year, and even though I really didn't think that was my problem, I knew he would know if I disobeyed.

Bored out of my mind, I shifted into the wolf. I was always more comfortable in this form. I bounded down into the courtyard and played with a twig that had fallen to the ground; fall was well and truly settling in. Starting to grow impatient as minutes went by, I growled and snapped the twig between my teeth. _Where the hell is he? I swear he takes this long solely to annoy me._

Suddenly, my ears pricked up with the sound of light footsteps._ There he is. Finally._

Carey appeared at the top of the stairs and then froze, his face whitening. As I started to plod towards him, he took a shaky step back, tensing as if ready to run. Then I finally realised my mistake. _Shit._ Quickly, I transformed back into a human. Carey stopped backing away, but stared at me perplexedly as if… well, as if I'd just changed species in front of him.

I fixed my robes and snapped my fingers in front of Carey's face. "Hey," I said. "Whitcliffe. Flying class starts in just five minutes, remember? We've got to go."

That seemed to snap the boy out of it. "Yeah. Right," he muttered, avoiding my gaze, and he started walking quickly in the direction of the Entrance Hall and the castle grounds.

I had to jog to keep up, and despite being in human form, I couldn't hold in a growl. This boy was **infuriating**. "Hey, wait up!" I called as he disappeared through the open double-doors. "Wait up, you dumb son of a-"

But before I could finish, I walked through the doors myself to see Carey had stopped dead in front of me. An instant later I saw why. Aerik Neverrem stood in front of us, a few feet away, a small smirk on his face.

"I see you're one to curse, huh, Ylva?" said Neverrem, folding his arms in mock disappointment. "Dear me, the Deputy Headmaster's daughter, swearing at a Muggle-born. What would your father say?"

I growled again. Neverrem's smug attitude always brought out the very worst in me. He still hadn't apologised for knocking me over in that bookstore, and I didn't think he ever would.

"Like he'd care about a couple of dumb first-years," I spat. "Just mind your own business, Neverrem. Or else!"

Neverrem chuckled quietly. His black eyes glinted malevolently, daring me to do something I knew I would regret. "Or else what?" he said lightly, his smile turning faintly mischievous, like the Doxies from Professor Addington's class. "You'll turn into a mutt and devour me? Now that's a nice way to become a disappointment, getting sent to Azkaban without lasting two weeks in your first year."

I was fast reaching breaking point, and Carey must have sensed something bad was about to happen because he quickly stepped in between us.

"Enough!" he said with more firmness than I'd thought the small, scrawny boy was capable of. He glared from me to Neverrem with a look that made me feel irrationally like an immature little girl.

Neverrem seemed to be affected in a different way. He lost his smile and snarled at Carey. "Little Muggle-born's got teeth… who'd have thought?" he sneered. Then he addressed me again. "Well, if you want to hide behind midgets, Ylva, I guess-"

I saw red. All the blood rushed to my head and I didn't realise until a few seconds afterward that I'd transformed my head into the wolf's. Shoving Carey roughly out of the way, I lunged at Neverrem and sank my teeth into the flesh of his shoulder.

"AAAARGH!"

Screams erupted around me. Regaining my senses, I rolled off Neverrem and transformed back into a human. I hadn't realised, but students were milling about: all of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had arrived for Flying class. Now everyone in the class, and it would soon be everyone in the school, knew my secret. Worse still,** I had attacked another student**. I had bitten Aerik Neverrem. He was lying on the ground bleeding because of me.

The odd thing I registered, amidst all the screaming and chaos, was that the only person who was actually hurt – Neverrem – was completely silent and motionless. I had only bitten his shoulder, so he couldn't have been knocked out, _could he?_ As everyone started to gather around, I knelt down over Neverrem's form. He was breathing slowly and heavily, his eyes fixed on the cloudless sky above. His face looked oddly peaceful and relaxed. It was like he didn't even care about what had happened.

As I looked at the gaping wound in Neverrem's shoulder, streaming blood onto the lush grass, a dead weight settled in my stomach. I was guilty. I had done this. I couldn't hide or run away from it. Despite myself, despite the fact that I still believed Neverrem deserved everything he got and more, I felt tears start to sting my eyes.

Loud footsteps made me look up. One of the teachers, Professor Fitima, burst through the front double-doors of the castle, quickly followed by several others. Clearly, they had already been told what had happened, because Professor Fitima barely took one look at the scene before shouting, "First years! Go back inside and straight to the Great Hall! No discussing what happened here until the teachers inform you otherwise! Move! Now!"

As the other first-years scurried to obey, Neverrem stirred and his weak gaze fell upon me. "Stupid mutt…" he muttered. A spurt of blood from his shoulder tickled the side of his face, and he recoiled. Professor Fitima quickly grabbed a fistful of Neverrem's own robe and pressed it to the wound, eliciting a cry. "Shit!"

Professor Fitima ignored his language, no doubt figuring it was excusable in the circumstances. Gently, she lifted up the stricken first-year and addressed the other Professors. "I'll take Mr. Neverrem to the hospital wing," she said calmly. "You… deal with Miss Ylva, will you? The Headmistress will want a word with her… and her father, of course."

_**Father**._ My blood ran cold. I hadn't even thought of him. He was going to kill me. Before I knew it, I was in my wolf form again, sprinting away from the castle as fast as my legs would take me. I heard voices and darted left and right, knowing the teachers must be casting spells at me. I could not be hit. I had to get away.

Just as I reached a mass of trees, I heard Professor Fitima's voice. _"Impedimenta!"_

A bolt of light barely missed me and struck a bush a few feet away, just before I darted into the trees and the voices dissipated. I suddenly realised where I was: the forest on the grounds that students were never allowed to enter or else face severe punishment. The Forbidden Forest.

I slowed to a trot, searching carefully until I found a small crevice on the ground close to a huge tree. I crouched down as low as I could get and hid there. Now I was alone, safe, with only my thoughts for company. Nothing else to do but think about what I'd done. I would probably be expelled. I'd let my father down. I had attacked and seriously injured another student.

That was the worst thing. I knew my power came with responsibility, and I'd abused it badly. Letting out a soft lupine whine, I then spoke, with my human voice, three words that I never thought I would ever say out loud.

"I'm sorry, Neverrem."


	8. Through the Grapevine

**Through the Grapevine**

**Kasumi's POV**

It took only a few minutes of broken talk and whispering through the crowd of first years before I figured out what had happened. Putting the pieces together like a Muggle investigator thrilled me to the core. Of course, I could not assume I had everything in order: rumours heard through the grapevine were not exactly the most reliable. Nonetheless, they proved useful once again.

I approached a small group of utterly confused Ravenclaw firsties, taking an interest in one whose demeanor bore the befitting title and role of the 'one and only witness.' Using my charms, I dug a little deeper and managed to get a few words out of the Muggle-born, Carey Whitcliffe. I was just in time, too, as not a moment later, the seniors of Ravenclaw house shepherded their younger housemates back up to Ravenclaw Tower, where I knew they would be instructed by the remaining teachers not to talk about the situation anymore.

"Aerik… Neverrem…" I paced back and forth, frowning. What was it with this fella? Why would Ylva's daughter attack him? Finally, I decided to head upstairs, to get away from the crowd and think. The moment I reached the top, though, I was met with a no less curious sight: Moran, along with those other two, Levi and Blake.

The trio looked to be unaware of the recent scuffle that had changed the whole dynamic of the day at Hogwarts. Upon seeing me, though, the three of them bounded toward me, all in strides of their own. Levi's hands were shoved down his pockets, and I knew he was resisting his usual thieving instincts. The 'Snatcher', indeed: ha! As if I cared one bit about him. Levi Warner was the very definition of a fake, and a real bastard, to boot, who thought he had the right to take advantage of every single person in Hogwarts. What an arse.

Meanwhile, Blake had an arm over Moran's - now _that_ was more interesting. They looked as friendly as ever, as if their 'big fight' the previous year was long forgotten. Their reconciliation would explain Levi's presence, too. But I wasn't convinced this wasn't just a temporary truce. I knew boys, and if they really had fought over some girl, they wouldn't be getting over it anytime soon. I still had no idea who that girl was, which was unusual for me. Both boys were saying nothing, and I dared not ask them. It wasn't my business!

"Hey, hey, hey. Sumi!" Levi had pushed himself in front of the others and held out a rather large hand flirtatiously.

Uninterested in the two-faced jerk, I sidestepped him deftly - "Nice seeing you too, Levi!" - and placed myself in the rather tight space in the middle of the other two, grinning at them both while waving dismissively in Levi's direction.

To my intense satisfaction, Levi's face showed dismay for a moment. Then he forced a smile back onto his face and returned his hands to his pockets. As I turned back to the other two, I thought I caught a quiet mutter: "More excited to see them, I see…"

I turned to Blake, and he looked away immediately.

_Okay?_

I glanced at Moran's direction and locked eyes with him before even he looked away.

Bemused by the growing distance between the three of us and still a little thrown by Levi's unwanted presence, I said the first thing that came to mind that might pique their interest. "Oh! I just saw a couple of first years talking about Aerik Neverrem being sent to the hospital wing! He was bitten by something… rather large crowd near the opening to the lawn by the Forbidden Forest..." I took a few steps ahead of them, back towards the scene, certain that the three of them - including Levi, unfortunately - would be keen to investigate this incident.

Blake and Levi, I knew, would never turn down the chance to find out the truth. Moran, though, surprised me. Not at all his normal carefree self, he gripped me by the shoulders, forcing me to turn to him. His face was as white as I'd ever seen him.

"Y-you're sure?" he demanded urgently. "M- Aerik? Was attacked? You're absolutely sure?"

"I…" I stammered, backing up a step. "I don't know the details, I only heard people talking, and asked questions, but…"

Moran shook his head. "Excuse me," he muttered, and then he abruptly turned and fled in the opposite direction, towards the hospital wing, bumping into students who were clueless of the accident.

I stared after him, my confusion doubling in an instant. _Just why is he so concerned about Aerik Neverrem?_

I thought back, trying to remember any connection between Moran and the Neverrems. Come to think of it, Moran _had_ seemed close to Professor Neverrem in the year or so I'd spent in Hogwarts with both of them, after my parents had transferred in the Ministry of Magic branch in London. She had cared for him as if he were her son. Was it because of that: was Moran reciprocating her concern for him towards her son, a child he didn't really know? Or did Moran know Aerik personally somehow?

I jolted as Blake brought his mouth close to my ear. "Moran's acting really strange," he murmured quietly, so passers-by wouldn't hear. "Remember a few days ago? The outburst I told you about? I don't know why… But it has something to do with Professor Neverrem's kid. I'm still pissed off about… well, I'm not Moran's biggest fan, but I'm worried about him."

Levi just laughed. "No kidding? He's just become a wussy babysitter. Look at him go!"

Blake glared at him fiercely. Levi immediately shut up.

I frowned again, deeply intrigued by it all. In a castle of magic, mystery and odd personalities, Moran had always been the epitome of 'normalcy' to me. No longer, it seemed. Apparently, everyone in Hogwarts had some kind of secret they were hiding somewhere beneath the mask. It looked like I'd just found his.

_Aerik Neverrem…_ I mused. _Quite a fascinating hold you have on Moran._

* * *

**Carey's POV**

I couldn't sleep. Seeing a girl who shared my tower turn into a vicious animal and attack a boy my own age was one thing. Getting questioned about it over and over again was another. But the worst was the concern everyone seemed to have for this boy. Aerik Neverrem. Everyone saw him as this kind, charismatic Gryffindor first-year whose performance was outstanding enough to earn the house a decent amount of points in a matter of a few days. But I knew different. This was the boy who'd acted oddly on our first meeting, as though trying to assert dominance; who'd pushed me on the way down to the lake; who'd provoked Victoria into attacking him like that. And deeper than all of that was the prickling, relentless feeling that Aerik Neverrem was trouble. That he wasn't who he appeared to be.

Why did no one else see this? Were they just blind, or willingly finding excuses to look away?

I shifted in bed, trying not to attract the attention of my dormmates. We were still being held inside the tower, and I knew it was to keep us from speaking of Neverrem's injury - or of Victoria having turned into that rabid white wolf. Shifting again and hearing the loud rumble of somebody's stomach coming from the far end of the room, I sat up and pulled my knees close to my face, going over the incident again in my mind.

_Aerik started the fight between him and Victoria… He was extremely confident. _

"Pssst! Whitcliffe!"

_It was like he wanted something out of it - **like he wanted Victoria to attack him.**_

It occurred to me that Neverrem's nasty attitude had seemed to trigger Victoria's… transfiguration? I had no idea what it was. Strangely, as far as I could see, Victoria had never used a wand during the transformation. It was as if her body molded itself on its own, forced by her emotions - her anger for Aerik.

"Carey! Whitcliffe! Psssssstttttt!"

I was broken out of my thoughts, unable to ignore the voice anymore. The source was one of my dormmates, Karl, and his whisper was louder than many people's normal voice - an utter failure at discretion. Like many Ravenclaws, Karl was the sort who had to know _everything._ I had patience for many things, but even I was growing weary of people asking for detail upon detail of what "thing" had bitten Neverrem and how it had all started, not to mention speculating about the Neverrems in general. Again, being Ravenclaws, everyone seemed well versed in the life of the Neverrems and how the late professor had, apparently, committed suicide. The whole thing was getting on my nerves. _Why are they so nosy?_

I sighed quietly, stifled my irritation and turned to face the taller, rosy-cheeked, big-bellied boy, steeling myself for yet another round of questioning.

"Whitcliffe." Karl sat at the edge of his creaking bed and leaned in my direction, his face pale as he slowly sweated bullets. "Do you know Aerik Neverrem personally?"

I frowned. Did I? I'd only interacted with him a handful of times, so after a moment, I shook my head.

Karl paused for a few seconds, looking rather perturbed. His fingers clasped together as if he was trying to keep something from leaping out in between the sweaty creases of his palms.

"Well," he continued, "I heard that Neverrem, the late professor - Aerik Neverrem's mother - died here, in Hogwarts… by that ugly tree." He let go of his own hand and pointed out the dorm's window, where the Whomping Willow stood, its limbs swishing in the breeze. "Um, our seniors…" Again, he seemed to grip at some invisible thing that kept his nerves calm enough to continue his statements. "They don't want us to know too much… Doesn't it scare you?"

That was something I didn't know how to react to. Sure, I felt a bit uncomfortable listening to something so tragic, but my own curiosity about Aerik won out. "You think Neverrem is cursed?"

"Possibly! I mean… I've been hearing rumours about his family…" Karl wiped the greasy sweat that had built upon his shiny forehead.

I couldn't help but lean in. "What rumours?" I asked urgently. If this had something to do with how strange Aerik acted…

"Ah - umm…" Karl began, but then there was a noise at the door, and he immediately shut up. The next moment, a number of seniors walked in, and the boy at the front looked my way. I'd become a minor celebrity in Ravenclaw due to the afternoon's events, so I knew right away that they'd come for me.

"Whitcliffe?" said the older boy.

I slipped off my bed and stood up. "Yeah?"

"You're needed," he said shortly. "Professor Ylva wants to see you. Come with us."

The seniors led me silently to the hospital wing where Aerik Neverrem laid on one of the beds. The hospital wing was deserted but for him, the matron and Professor Ylva, and the older boy who had sat with us on the train. Moran. The stricken younger boy on the bed was staring into space, his breathing ragged, but by the way he adjusted himself now and then, I got the strong feeling his labored breathing was an act. I glanced at the matron to see her looking down at Aerik with narrowed eyes: it was evident that even she had picked this up.

Aerik's gaze suddenly turned in my direction, and I felt my heart stop beating. There was a dark void behind those black eyes, and in that moment, I could easily believe what Karl had said, of there being a curse placed on the Neverrems. I gazed back, forcing myself not to blink, while Moran came by to whisper something in Aerik's ear, something I didn't catch.

"Mr. Safrel," said Professor Ylva, quietly and calmly. "Please leave us."

If Moran was reluctant to obey, he did not show it. He nodded to Professor Ylva and departed quickly.

There was silence for what seemed like several minutes. I stood there, continuing to stare at Aerik. No one moved. Finally, Aerik spoke. "I'm sorry."

His eyes looked unfocused, as if he were not completely there. It was unnerving.

The matron then bent over Aerik and helped him. "Drink this," she instructed him, handing him a vial. I could not tell what it was - I still had next to no knowledge of the wizarding world's healing methods - but it looked vile and I could only imagine what it might taste like. Aerik seemed to share my opinion; he closed his eyes in disgust, but drank it without complaint.

Finally, after swallowing, Aerik began to talk in earnest. "I am truly sorry… what happened there… I-I don't know what I've done to deserve getting bitten… and now, she's- she's missing…" With every broken phrase, I swore I sensed some sort of hidden fear. It looked as if Neverrem was trying to make himself look the part of the victim, which I didn't buy: I knew the truth, after all.

"She just attacked me…" Aerik added, looking down at his injured shoulder. I looked at Professor Ylva, debating whether to say anything, and what to say, wondering if the gaze Aerik gave me earlier was a warning not to talk. Perhaps even a threat.

Ylva saw me looking and sent a brief, unreadable glance my way. Somehow, I had the feeling he wasn't buying Aerik's act, either. But he said nothing - he didn't push Aerik any further. I frowned. Why was Ylva protecting Neverrem? It seemed the older man cared for Aerik more than he let on - more, perhaps, than even his own daughter?

"Mr. Whitcliffe," said Professor Ylva quietly. "Do you have anything to add?"

I glanced from him to Aerik. Those black eyes were on me again. I decided that, if Professor Ylva suspected but wasn't going to do anything, nothing I could say would change that. "Nothing, sir," I replied at last.

"Very well, then," said Professor Ylva. "Please follow me to the Great Hall; dinner is starting. Your Ravenclaw classmates are being escorted down as we speak."

Ylva quickly disappeared out the door, and I made to follow him, but before I could take more than one step, Aerik called out to me. "Whitcliffe…"

I turned. Aerik was gripping his wand in his left hand, his functional one, with obvious frailty, but also determination. The matron took one look at Aerik and then disappeared into her office, clearly busy with her work. Aerik watched her go, then immediately sat up, pointing his wand at the cast covering his savaged right shoulder._ "Ferula!"_

A mass of bandages swirled and spun around Aerik's arm and shoulder, forming an arm sling. I hadn't heard of that charm before and quickly pulled out my pocket notepad and quill. I kept it on me at all times to jot down any new spells I heard of or saw in action - I was determined to learn everything I could about this new world of the strange and wonderful. I looked up to see Aerik was now pointing his wand at… me.

I fumbled for my own wand, but had barely brought it out before Aerik muttered an incantation that I didn't catch. The wand on my hand flew upwards and Aerik, making what looked like a pained effort, caught it near the end of his bed. Half-curious, half too terrified to bolt, I watched as Aerik approached me and pushed my wand to my chest, before turning and tiptoeing to the doors. He looked back at me and gestured for me to follow him.

I hesitated - this was clearly breaking the rules, something I did not usually do. But I couldn't help but follow the peculiar boy. I still didn't trust him, but his actions were so strange that I needed to find out more. I didn't know why his whole demeanor seemed to go from one extreme to the other - I needed a better read on him. And I definitely wanted to know why he'd had to steal my wand for no more than a second or two.

I caught up to Aerik at the bottom of the stairs and immediately realized we were heading for the school grounds. I followed silently until we reached the doors opening into the dark of night. The sight terrified me, seeing it up close. I had only ever looked at the Forbidden Forest from the safe distance of my dormitory window.

I tugged on Aerik's robes. "What are we doing out here?" I demanded quietly. "Why are we going to the one place the Headmistress told us never to go?"

Aerik turned to face me and pulled out a book. "I think I know how to get Ylva back… that damned mutt." He flipped through its pages and stepped in front of me. "It is said here that when you listen to the voice of the forest… it will take you where you want to go. Let it guide you, and it will hide you from everything: your pain, your doubts, your weaknesses, and your enemies. Come, Whitcliffe."

I stared at him, uncomprehending, as he closed his book. He then grabbed my wrist forcibly, and began to run for the forest. I let out a cry of alarm - his grip was unnaturally strong. I had no choice but to run with him.

We sprinted into the trees and beyond, until I could barely see Aerik; his figure was engulfed by his surroundings. The darkness was eerie, like we'd entered some sort of pocket in space, Aerik shook his head, as if dizzy, and finally let go of my arm.

"It worked!" he crowed. "It worked! It's still here!" He laughed joyfully, digging the fingers of his left hand into his messy dark hair. I stared, not having the faintest idea why Aerik was so happy - had he gone mad? Then my eyes caught on something strange as they adjusted to the dim light; all around us, meshed together, were impossibly slim threads of light that swayed slightly as if blown by a breeze. Did that have something to do with it?

Aerik set off again and I walked beside him, watching the silky lines, trying to figure out where they ended and where they began. "What is this?" I asked Aerik in a nervous undertone. This wasn't something any of our professors had talked about.

To my surprise, Aerik shrugged, not seeming to know the answer himself. After a long pause, he suggested, "We could call it the 'Other Realm', maybe."

Then as if a switch was turned, Aerik's smile faded and was replaced by a sort of quiet resolve. He brought his finger to his lips and listened. A plethora of sounds rang through the space, filling our bones with the noises of some magical creature scurrying about or the rushing of the rivers that intertwined within the dense undergrowth.

He listened. I listened, too. Then…

"_Lumos!"_ Light flared and I saw a few wizards searching the trees, the Headmistress among them. I froze, certain we had been discovered, but Aerik pulled me away from them, towards another dark path. Soon we were in near-darkness again, and I saw nothing but the back of Aerik's head and trees, each seemingly the same as the last.

Then Aerik stopped, and I almost bumped into him. "Do you hear that?" he hissed.

I'd heard nothing, so I stayed quiet.

Aerik crouched to the ground and closed his eyes. The threads quivered slightly. It almost looked like Aerik himself was a spider feeling the vibrations his prey made. And somehow, without knowing how I knew, I could feel what his prey was. Victoria Ylva.

_What are you playing at, Aerik? _I asked silently. _Why are you trying to bring Victoria back?_

I kept my distance from Aerik this time as he continued in his quest. He must have noticed that I wasn't following him so closely anymore, so he turned and stared at me for a few moments. I stared back.

He cocked his head, strode up to me, and awkwardly placed his hand on my shoulder. "Whitcliffe, this is nothing to worry about. I just want to apologize to Ylva." He smirked. "Besides, isn't this fun? An adventure?"

I didn't believe a word he said, and the fact that he'd seemed to just read my mind spooked me even more. Aerik Neverrem was a mystery, and he felt somehow unsafe to be around. Everything he portrayed seemed off. He laughed a certain way, but I could tell it was forced. He smiled a certain way, but I knew it meant something different. It unnerved me.

I had no idea how long we continued to search. Well, Aerik was doing the searching; with nothing better to do, I ran through the day's events and what I knew of Aerik and the Neverrems over and over in my mind, never making any progress. I had my back turned to Aerik and was wondering for the dozenth time just what Karl had wanted to tell me when, quite suddenly, a high pitched whine met my ears.

_Victoria?_ I wheeled around.

A pale white, ghostly-looking wolf stood at the opposite end of the clearing. Aerik was beside it, hand holding a part of its scruff tightly. The wolf snarled, and I realised Aerik must have pulled her inside the Other Realm. The curtain of threads were swaying again as if just falling back into place.

The wolf's vicious yellow glare did not leave Aerik even after he let go of her fur, patted it gently and stepped back. She stared for a moment longer, then leapt at the boy and snapped at his robe, snatching it away. Then, fur distorted and gave way to pale white skin, and ashy blonde hair grew from the beast's head. Victoria was human again and - I hastily averted my eyes - in a shocking state of undress. Her own robes had been torn and shredded, no doubt in her frantic escape earlier.

Embarrassed out of my wits, I finally chanced a glance over my shoulder, to see Victoria had wrapped herself in Aerik's robe; it was safe to look. Aerik, for his part, had picked up his dusty old book and wand and was straightening his white dress shirt. He shivered a little, tugging at his sleeveless sweater. Face set in a scowl, he cursed under his breath and started walking.

Victoria and I followed silently. _Now what?_

It didn't take long for us to reach the very end of the weaving mass of fine thread. Aerik pushed me out of the space, and I found myself in the middle of the field near the back entrance of the castle. A moment later, Aerik appeared, Victoria with him. They were hand in hand - he'd obviously pulled her through - but both seemed to let go as quickly as they could.

I'd thought the adventure might be over, but Aerik beckoned for us to follow him. "Where are we going?" I asked him warily as we entered the castle.

"The Great Hall," Aerik said shortly. "Where the teachers are. We should return Ylva," his eyes roved over Victoria, "to them."

"To the teachers?" I repeated, incredulous, and stopped in my tracks. "We just broke the rules! Went into the Forbidden Forest. You want us to just give ourselves up?"

Aerik stopped, turned, and eyed me with that black stare. "I'll handle it," he said coolly, and then he turned and started walking again, towards the Great Hall.

I looked at Victoria, who was silent, and thought for a moment about telling her to ignore Aerik, and taking her back up to Ravenclaw Tower myself. But, I grudgingly admitted, Aerik had a point. The teachers - and her father - would be worried about her. Returning her properly would be worth getting punished.

So we both set off again, catching up with Aerik outside the double doors to the Great Hall. Aerik pushed the door open, and together, the three of us walked in. The students were gone, and several of our professors, including the Headmistress and Professor Ylva, were waiting for us.

I couldn't help but wince. They all looked extremely disappointed with the three of us, especially the Headmistress. "Explain yourselves," she instructed us, nostrils flaring. "Beginning with you, Mr. Neverrem."

Aerik, it seemed, was prepared. "I went into the Forbidden Forest to return Miss Ylva, Headmistress," he said promptly. "It was my responsibility to do so, and as you can see, I brought her back safely. I brought Mr. Whitcliffe with me, for safety in numbers, and because he'd been there at the confrontation in the first place."

The Headmistress nodded, then turned to me. "Mr. Whitcliffe?"

I opened my mouth, not knowing what I was going to say, but Aerik saved me the trouble by interjecting.

"He was only involved in any of this because of me," he insisted, still as calm as could be. "I started all of this. I used my anger over my mother's death to infuriate Miss Ylva. I insulted her and provoked her into attacking me. If I hadn't done that and, if I hadn't placed Mr. Whitcliffe in the middle of it, then this whole event would have never taken place. I surrender all the points you have given me to make up for my faults."

Aerik bowed his head. Victoria, oddly, looked unfazed by his actions, like she wasn't paying any attention - her eyes shifted colors, from blue to yellow and back again. I remained quiet, barely daring to believe what was happening.

"Very well," said the Headmistress at last. "Forty points will be taken from Gryffindor. I am pleased you have realized your mistake and have admitted fault. That is very mature on your part, and mitigates the need for further punishment. I hope to see that you don't let your past, however devastating it may be, guide you to your future. All of you have flaws and strengths that you will grow to learn from and advance in your time here."

In that moment, I saw why this woman, younger than even the youngest of the professors working in Hogwarts, with a smile warm and pleasant as the sun, was Headmistress of Hogwarts. Her voice and words alike were deep, as if of one far older and wiser than she looked.

She turned to both Victoria and I and declared, "Twenty points will be taken from Ravenclaw: ten for each of you. You still had your parts in this incident; you do not need to let another's actions dictate your own."

I swallowed but accepted my punishment wordlessly. It was lighter than I could have imagined. Victoria was silent.

Looking at all three of us now, the Headmistress tilted her head to the side slightly, before speaking to us quietly, barely above a whisper, and yet her presence was such that we could not miss it. "Please, listen and obey the rules. They are set out to guarantee your safety, nothing more and nothing less. Thank you for your honesty."

Her final sentence had a note of dismissal, and I wasn't surprised when we were promptly accompanied by our professors back to our respective destinations. We separated from Aerik outside the hospital wing, where he was to need even more rest because of his weak condition, after having so much time traipsing around the Forbidden Forest. He was very quiet when we left him.

Both Victoria and I were silent as Professor Ylva escorted us back up to Ravenclaw Tower. We'd missed dinner, but that was the last thing on my mind. Apart from being glad we weren't being punished too badly and bemused by how easily Aerik gave up his hard-earned points, I was intrigued by this 'Other Realm' we had been in. I'd never seen something so different and so magnificent; even the rest of the wizarding world didn't compare.** I ached to go back there again.**

But, I found in the following days, it wasn't so easy. Although I retraced my steps and found the place where we'd entered and exited the Other Realm, there seemed to be nothing special about it. No matter how much I spun on my toes or ran like a madman, hoping to get a hold of those thin wires of magic thread, it simply didn't happen.

Giving up, I settled down on the green meadows, sitting cross-legged, and thought, and remembered. Remembered Aerik's joy at first entering the realm, and what he'd said.

**"It worked! It worked! It's still here!"**

Was Aerik the only one able to enter the Other Realm freely? Was he the key to accessing it?

What _was_ so special about Aerik Neverrem?


End file.
